Listen to the Music
by TmntChick
Summary: All that is left, is what you haven't lost... But the dead don't need optimism, or a brighter side to look on. All they need is for someone to say their name that one last time.
1. Safety

**We can act like come out of this world and leave the real one far behind.**

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm gay and dead."

A sentence he never thought he'd say; a sentence no one thinks they'll ever say. Not that Lady Gaga - who he just confessed his position to – cared let alone knew he was there.

"Death is easy, just so you know," Kurt stated quietly turning to the microphone Gaga had left open, "It only takes a second, but... being dead is a whole other thing all together."

Stepping down from the stage, he marched down the aisle before stopping in front of Justin Bieber and looking him in the eye,

"You give people with high voices a bad name, get fucked."

Satisfied that his mission -appropriately titled _'Storming the VMA Awards'_- was a success; if only people could see him so he could relish in what would be his fifteen minutes of fame, he began his walk back to Lima. If ghosts could fly he obviously hadn't figured it out yet, hell, he was still having trouble phasing through walls.

Boy, would Tina's obsession with death be handy.

"Come on Vanilla" Kurt called quietly to the dog sitting by the entrance as he exited the building. The giant mutt quickly followed, brushing against Kurt's right leg the entire way back to Lima as the crow flies, phasing though anyone or anything in their path.

-:-

"Does everything taste like broccoli to you?" Kurt asked, tilting his head to look Vanilla in the eyes. The dog was giving him a look which was clearly read as _'That's because all you eat is broccoli, dickhead'_.

Kurt let out a deep sigh as he threw the stem of broccoli on the road. Vanilla was right; all he'd eaten was the dreaded green vegetable. Why? He didn't know; that's just how it was.

'_Three frickin months of living on broccoli? What the fuck is up with that Hummel?' _he'd imagine Puck saying before smacking him hard on the back and start laughing like a nut-job.

"What would I put on my résumé for my age? Sixteen years old or sixteen year living, three months dead?"

These kinds of questions kept circling each other in his trail of thought every day. Today, they decided to make a point of appearing as he lent against the brick wall of the coffee shop Mike worked at as he watched people rudely and unknowingly trample on his legs, with the occasional mild fumble when Kurt let his guard down and went solid for a split second.

"I'm bored, screw Mike. Come on Nilla."

Vanilla, aka Nilla when not in trouble or when Kurt wasn't in a mood, was dead dog. A mix of every breed known to man; but an awesome friend to Kurt none the less. Nilla followed Kurt everywhere and followed every order given and was an excellent source for a warm hug – for a ghost.

"Finn had a big history test yesterday... should we check if he passed it?" Kurt asked as he dodged the mess on people walking towards him. He'd gotten the hang of his phasing ability, but being solid was natural to him and he had yet to master his ability; knocking someone on the footpath and not have them know how it happened wasn't really an option, he hated the thought of sending someone mad if they obsessed over it.

Nilla gave a nod of approval whilst dodging the living; while the dog did everything Kurt said he still passed judgement on whether or not something was a bad idea.

Kurt's house hadn't changed much in three months. Sure, inside was a little messier but that was only due to Kurt's absence. Magazines weren't always neatly stacked, and the contents of the kitchen drawers weren't in a neat order; a system of if the drawers full dump it in the one underneath had developed. While there were plenty of other things a mess, those were the two that annoyed Kurt the most. After all the times Kurt went over the drawer set up with Carole and scolded Finn and his dad for throwing magazines any which way on the coffee table, he felt a little offend that they were so quick to forget.

But then again, they probably only remembered because he was constantly retelling them.

"Finn!" Kurt called uselessly as he phased through the front door, "Come on Nilla, you can come in."

With a nervous Nilla in tow, Kurt made his way to the basement. Yes, Finn had his own room but Kurt's room was bigger, and a better study space. If Finn wasn't sleeping, eating or out of the house he'd be in Kurt's room.

"Finn, how'd you go on the history test?" Kurt asked as he phased through his bedroom door. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he took in the sight before him.

The Glee Club sat around the room watching some movie on the TV.

"Is this for a Glee assignment?" Kurt asked cheerfully, stepping over his friends to get a view of the TV.

His heart stopped... or, at least, it would've if it could.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a guilty pleasure of his, was blaring at them.

Kurt was torn; turn the TV off or watch the rest. Kurt was favouring turning it off, seeing as how they were almost at the scene where Frank gives Brad head and there were really only two songs that were good for a laugh –the main reason Kurt loves it so much, it's a laugh... and Brad's hot and Tim Curry is awesome, otherwise the end is a bit of a drag... pun not intended- so there wasn't really any point to watch what was left. Plus, Kurt really didn't want them to know of his secret obsession, but it was a little late of the cover up now wasn't it?

"This was Finn's idea wasn't it? Or at least an idea upon an idea given by Rachel to dedicate a week's assignment to me before singing some ballad... and I missed the fall out for the VMAs? Damn, now it's gonna annoy me all week. What song do you think she sung Nilla?"

Kurt turned his head to find Nilla hadn't followed him down, he doubted that the dog had followed him very far past the kitchen. He hated being around Kurt's friends and family.

"And there it is, Hummel's reason for the obsession" stated Santana, bring Kurt's attention back to the movie.

"You actually told them I was obsessed!" Kurt shrieked at Finn, taking his eyes off the gay head job going down on screen.

"Actually, most of the time when he watched it, he'd skip the talking and go straight to the music" Finn mumbled nervously, eyes on the floor and a mouth full of popcorn.

Kurt stepped over his friends and sat on his bed. Staring at his friends, the circle of stupid questions returned.

"If ghosts have sex do you think they can get pregnant? Or catch STDs?"

A smash of glass and a yelp brought Kurt out of circle; only the glass caught his friend's attentions.

"What the hell was that?" asked Quinn.

"It was glass... silly Quinn" mumbled Kurt as he calmly got up and made his way up stairs.

"Shit, what do we do?" was the last thing Kurt heard before phasing through his bedroom door.

"Nilla? What'd you do?"

Nothing apparently. Nilla sat by the front door looking at Kurt, _'Yeah, something goes smash and it's my fault. Thanks of the sense of trust dick-weed.'_

"I'm sorry that was me."

Kurt jumped as he turned to face a brunette woman in a white spaghetti strap dress. It's not like he hadn't meet any other ghosts, he even had the pleasure of meeting a few zombies, but he could always sense them and they wouldn't just walk randomly into his house!

"Who are you?"

"Elisa, and you are Kurt, yes?"

"Yeah?"

"Hi, I'm your guide."

"For what?"

"Being dead, well, being a ghost exactly. There's no guide to being dead, how can you mess that up?"

"How can you mess up being a ghost? No, look I've been dead three months isn't this a little late?"

Before Elisa could answer, Puck, Finn, Sam and Mike stormed out of the basement carrying various things to use as weapons.

"Why the hell was there a baseball bat in my room?" Kurt muttered, "And isn't Mike meant to be a work?"

Kurt turned to Nilla for an answer, _'We must have missed him leave.'_

"Different. Look come with me, I'll talk you through it all. Don't worry I won't hurt you."

"I'm already dead, what could you possibly do to me now?"

"I like the way you think Kurt."


	2. Eclipse

**I get a little bit terrified, and then I see the look in your eyes.**

Kurt wondered what the weather was like. He could see it was sunny with little more than cheerful white clouds, but what the wind was like he couldn't tell, and there wasn't anyone outside to guess off... well no one living anyway.

This brought him back to the reason he was outside, the fellow brunette ghost who'd invited herself into his house and broken something.

"What'd you break?" asked Kurt as they sat on his front lawn.

"Nothing, it's just a trick I learned. When you've been dead for as long as I have you figure these things out" Elisa said, leaning back, "Which brings me to you. How have you been?"

"You ask that as if you've known me all your life" Kurt stated quickly, avoiding eye contact staring at the house across the road.

"Fine, let me rephrase that. How's being dead?"

Kurt smirked as he looked into his lap before sharing a glance with Vanilla,

"Lonely. Why'd you take so long to come help me?" he said tilting his head to look Elisa in the eye.

"I may not look like it, but I've been dead for almost seven hundred years and I've been a guide for nearly three hundred. I learned quickly it's better to let the fact that their dead sink in before you try telling them what do to," Elisa gave a weak smile as the sadness in her eyes settled.

"I already know what I'm doing if you're meant to teach me how to phase through walls and stuff," Kurt smirked trying to lift the mood.

"Oh no, I'm not allowed to tell you how to do that nor are you allowed to teach new ghosts" Elisa said looking a little shocked, "I just have to tell you things like that."

Kurt groaned. The one thing he'd gotten used to was how easy being dead was most of the time. Now this girl comes along to preach rules to him?

'_Aw hell to the naw!' _Mercedes would say _'Me and my boy don't follow no rules!'_

"So I have to follow rules?" Kurt asked in a deadpan tone, staring at his mailbox.

"A few. Mainly just the phasing one and not letting people know what death is."

"I'm sure people all know what death is Elisa," Kurt chuckled.

"I should rephrase that again... You can't tell them what being dead is like," Elisa said, smiling at her mistake.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, if someone tells you how they died, you have no choice but to tell them."

Kurt stayed silent as he started stroking Nilla's head.

"You're so young, how did you die?" asked Elisa, crawling over in front of the duo to get a clear view of their faces.

"Infection" Kurt stated simply, looking down at Nilla for approval, "Nilla was put to sleep. You don't seem much older, what happened to you?"

"Black plague. You're not telling me the full story, are you?" Elisa asked accusingly.

"No, but we don't have to, and I don't know you so it seems a little inappropriate to tell you my life story."

"True, but," she was cut off by Finn running through the front door wearing a confused expression. He scanned the yard before focusing on the area where the trio were sitting.

"I should probably get going" stated Elisa as she got up and brushed her dress off, "He can sense me."

"Are you kidding?" Kurt snorted, "It's Finn he's an idiot."

"The denser ones usually have better perception for angels though, call me if you need me."

"Wait, what!" asked Kurt getting up to follow her, but she simply disappeared.

Turning around, Kurt could see Finn shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as he walked back into the house, locking the door behind him.

Damn.

These were the moments Kurt hated the most -not when people stared right through him, he'd gotten over that around the eighth day mark- when people would stare at him for a while and try to convince themselves they saw nothing. Granted, that wasn't exactly what happened here, but none the less, it sucked.

Kurt looked at Nilla for some reassurance, _'Angels huh? First one of those... How do you plan on calling her?'_

"I'd probably just yell her name I guess," Kurt mumbled as he stumbled his way back to the house, "Please come to the basement with me, you should meet them all."

Kurt glanced at Nilla as they went through the door, _'Fine... But I reserve the right to leave when ever."_

"Deal."

Being a ghost came down to two things for Kurt; The sub categories of shit of being dead and wishing he wasn't, most of the time. For Nilla it also came down to two things; Kurt and avoiding Kurt's friends and family.

Nilla of course came under being dead for Kurt, without the mutt 'lonely' would've the understatement of the... whatever the method ghosts use as time, not that Kurt had expected it to be any different to how the living do it, but so many ghosts use terms like 'half the suns turn' or 'twelve suns till the third moon'. This made almost no sense to Kurt, but Nilla seemed to understand it enough to translate for him.

The bond between a man and his dog is like no other human/animal connection on this world or in Kurt's. While a cat expects you to answer to its beckon call, a dog wants but expects nothing material. They'll give as good as they get and will give regardless of whether there is anything intended to give them in return. Many think this is stupid of dogs, to give so willingly and live with the only expectation being love. Dogs live only for love, making greed unneeded. But a dog has little fear to pass their judgement and will willingly take out anything that may impede their love, making them perfect guards, though a selfish act to protect their hearts it may be, humans show little remorse for those who tempt to trample on what they love, making humans and their canine companions not all that different. But a neglected dog that is so rarely shown love that it doesn't know how to react to it, well, that's a whole other story all together.

-:-

Kurt sat on his bed lightly stroking Nilla's head, occasionally scratching behind his ears, to keep his nerves at bay.

"Quinn should totally do the song where Janet slept with Rocky" Brittany said as she plated Mercedes' hair loosely.

"Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me?" Finn slurred the title.

"I can't do that Finn, you're dating Rachel."

"It's the name of the song Britt" mumbled Santana, as she went through the DVD's special features, or lack thereof.

"Oh. Then yeah, that one!"

"See Nilla, they're not that bad. Just a little rough around the edges," said Kurt, giving Nilla a reassuring smile.

Nilla broke his stare at the couch to look Kurt in the eye, _"That Puck morons going through you closet.'_


	3. Dream

**Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away.**

"_Kurt, you really shouldn't go near it."_

"_I think it's a him, Finn."_

"_Dude!"_

"_Finn, look at the size of him! It's a little hard to miss!"_

"_Don't go near him, Kurt!"_

"_Yeah dude, listen to Rachel!"_

"Finn! Finn, wake up!"

Finn slowly calmed down, not that his slumber was riddled with thrashing and screams, but he'd broken a cold sweat and was mumbling incoherent words.

Kurt looked down at Nilla, _'He's probably too lazy to thrash around in his dreams."_

Kurt chuckled as he looked down at his feet, tempted to shuffle them from the concrete stance they'd taken to. A tendency he'd succumbed to while watching in on people's dreams, an ability he figured he had on the twelfth day. But that's not to say he knew how to use it, he'd just see them. He knew how to get out, just not how to get in.

He'd have to ask Elisa about it. Right now, he had to go check on Carole.

She and Burt worked through their stuff after the thing with Finn and Kurt went down. Mainly with Finn's pushing, guilt can be a powerful force to get something done and Finn used it perfectly. He felt it was his responsibility.

Then Carole announced she was pregnant and he felt queasy. Kurt knew before the rest of them did, even Carole herself. One of the perks of being dead, he guessed.

"Carole?" Kurt whispered as he stepped through the open door of the adult's room. He'd knock but only the dead would hear it and the door would move a few inches if he hit it hard enough.

"Little ditty, 'bout Jack and Dianne" Carole mumbled, the song had been stuck in her head for a week and sung it when she did her house work, such as her current job of putting away laundry. Kurt was tempted to join in, but he knew the song would only get stuck in his head as well and another Mellencamp song stuck in his head was one thing he really didn't need; he still had trouble getting the week long, seemingly everlasting record of 'Rain on the Scarecrow' out of his head.

"Finn should be helping you, Carole" Kurt stated simply as he stared at the cat sitting in the corner of the room. The people who owned the house before Burt and Kirsty Hummel bought it owned the tabby with a disposition of a rabid Doberman, and left her behind when they moved. Kurt could remember her till the age of four, after that she just simply wasn't there. He remembered calling her Puppy, because he was stupid when he was two.

"If Finn needs to get out of bed, you should haunt him out of it" the cat stated dryly.

'_Don't worry Kurt,' _Brittany would say, _'I talk to my cat sometimes too.'_

"You shouldn't be able to talk" Kurt said as he slid down the wall to sit next to the cat.

"For a gay man, you have a very short minded view on talking cats."

"That doesn't even make sense, Puppy" Kurt chuckled, elbowing the cat lightly, "What happened to you?"

"For the last year with you and your parents, I was a zombie" Puppy stated as if it were obvious.

The main image that pops into ones head when they hear 'zombie' is a rotting corpse digging its way up from its grave and feasting on brains. Not true. Zombies are ghosts who have the fortune of being able to live within their corpse, among the living. They have the ability to see ghosts, and can tell whether or not someone is a fellow zombie, they can phase through walls and decide on which humans can see them. But a zombie cannot age, and the state their body is in when they die is the state in which it stays. They choose when their spirit leaves their body to become ghosts, invisible to the living.

In short, zombies are the lucky bastards who get to choose when they physically die, and are the things you see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look, is totally gone.

"So you just decided it was time?" asked Kurt.

"Yes, and I nearly scratched your eyes out, if I didn't leave your father would've bricked me."

"Why can you talk?"

"Some old codger gave her voice to me. She seemed determined to enter her next life a mute" Puppy answered, looking up at Kurt with her blue left eye and green right eye, "Rumour has it you got bitten by a dog."

"Yeah, rumour has it right."

"Call that Elisa girl," Puppy ordered as she stretched her back, "You're obviously still clueless, how long you been dead?"

"Three months and a week exact" Kurt answered staring at the ceiling. The day before, he'd decided to follow Puck around and learned he'd been counting day by day of a lot of things. Kurt had lost count of days in general; they'd come and go as quick as the one before. He tried counting, but found little point after two weeks.

"Don't count. It's bad for you toes."

And with that, Puppy faded away leaving Kurt, Nilla and Carole alone with only Carole as she did her house work.

-:-

"Finn, get the hell up and clean the kitchen."

"No, Mum get Kurt to do it!"

"Finn!"

"Nnnnahhaha!" Finn wailed as he dragged himself out of bed. Saturday mornings weren't meant for house work... two o'clock Saturday day, however.

"That's a new one" Kurt mused, as he sat in front of the TV. The living may not be able to see what's on, but ghosts could use whatever they wanted without the living knowing. Until the living took over whatever it was the ghost was using, then the ghost had to make a copy of it that the human couldn't see. Creating a copy of something wasn't a hard feat, you just had to go pick a human object up and a ghost copy would enter your hands instead. That's how Kurt kept his look fresh every day.

"Damn, I just said get Kurt to do it didn't I?" Finn groaned as he slumped next to Kurt on the couch.

"Yes you did, now go clean the kitchen like your mummy dearest told you," Kurt said as he flicked through the channels, changing stations with a quick flick of his eyes.

"Yes Finn, you did and you're lucky Burt isn't here. Now clean the kitchen, I need a sleep" Carole said, shooing Finn towards the kitchen.

"Dwaaww," Kurt cooed, "Mummy needs some new shoes, you should go treat yourself."

Carole sat in the recliner and reclined. Quickly she'd fallen asleep and started snoring quietly. Kurt felt this was his queue to leave, he wanted cake anyway.


	4. Hanging On

**Let me get over you, the way you've gotten over me.**

"The brake pads are shot, Dad."

Burt Hummel; widower, mechanic and the guy whose kid was bitten by a stray. A title he'd come accustomed to over the past three months and two weeks, not saying he'd agreed with it, but accustomed none the less. But what do you call someone who lost their kid? Poor bastard was Burt's favourite; not that anyone called him that to his face, he'd over hear customers being served by one of the other mechanics or something.

But 'Single Dad To that Gay Kid' had a much better ring to it.

"Oh Kurt, this place is filthy, can we talk somewhere else?"

"No Elly. I haven't talked to my Dad for a while; I wanted to spend the day with him."

"Don't call me Elly."

Kurt had called Elisa, two weeks after meeting her. He didn't want to be an inconvenience to her by calling her every ten minutes with new questions; instead he decided to wait until he had several to ask and spend a day with her. He didn't plan for his plans to clash with his father waking up in a foul mood, sending Kurt's gut south with guilt. He felt a little grateful that his dad wasn't sad, just pissed off; that is, until he remembered something his mother said to him once – _'Being mad, is just a different way of showing you're sad.'_

"Fine," Kurt said, idly fiddling with a ghost spark plug.

"How on earth did a man such as Burt have a son such as you?" Elisa asked Kurt as she inspected Burt's face, "I'm mean, there's a slight resemblance, but only if you look for it."

"I'm very much my mother's son in that sense" Kurt murmured, staring at the spark plug till it faded, "I gotta figure out how I did that..."

"You know the way you are with Vanilla? It's very special, don't take it for granted" Elisa said, kneeling to pet the nervous mutt.

"I know..."

"How did you come get your name Nilla?" she cooed, rubbing noses with Nilla.

"I gave it to him... He was a stray so he didn't have one. Two days after he died, we were sitting out the front of a cake store," Kurt paused to swallow and take a deep, slow breath," He wouldn't stop staring at the vanilla cupcakes... I was still really depressed and my imagination was shot, and I got a little sick of calling him 'Dog'."

"You were bitten by a stray" Elisa commented offhandedly, taking in the regretting look in Nilla's eyes and the shocked look in Kurt's, "I can hear your father's thoughts. He doesn't stop thinking about it."

"So why don't we," Kurt muttered bitterly, observing the conversion charts on the wall.

"You wanted to ask me questions," Elise pressed encouragingly, looking at Kurt like a teacher looks at a five year old.

_Why can't I talk about my death?_

"Why can I see into dreams?"

"You can see into dreams? But I thought you could see fetus spirits," Elisa kicked the floor and flung her head back, "That's strange, not many get to see both... But you were a zombie for such a short time, I'm not entirely sure. But you can only see into dreams of people who haven't let go yet, so you can't choose, it just happens."

"I know it just happens."

"Next question."

_When can I see my mum?_

"Why do my toes hurt?"

"Kurt, you silly, have you been counting the days you've been dead?" Elisa asked, sounding disappointed, as she crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg.

"No, but Puck has..." Kurt mumbled as his thumbs rolled circles around each other.

"And when you follow Puck, and learn how long he's being counting, your toes hurt. Didn't Puppy tell you it was bad to count?"

Kurt sighed as he fiddled with the pull string on his hoodie. He'd taken the approach of _'You're dead, you can dress like a normal person now, there's nothing to aspire to here'_ when he changed his clothes. Grey hoodie, blue skinny jeans and beaten up converse –two sizes to big- were easy and very suited to the dead lifestyle. Very 'Ghoul Chic'.

"When can I leave this stupid world" Kurt growled with resentment.

"When everybody lets go" Elisa stated with a cheery smile and adorable smile.

"What happens then?"

"We all have three deaths Kurt. The first is when we physically die and we become ghosts. The second is when our spirit dies and we pass over. The third is when our name is spoken for the last time and we move on to our next life."

"How many times have you died?"

"Two, but I was destined to be an angel so I can come back, but only to you. Angel being another word for guide and no wings... I was a little disappointed. Meaning you can't see your mother until you cross over and you can't talk about your death because not enough people have let go."

"You can hear my thoughts too, huh?" Kurt mused.

"Yes. Try to think a little quieter. Did you need anything else?"

"No, I forgot any other questions."

Elisa simply nodded as she pranced out of the garage, fading into the sun

-:-

Brittany. Where to begin...

'_Brittany begins with B' _Becky would say_, 'And then..."_

"I didn't tell you this enough, but I love you Brit" Kurt whimpered as he sat next to her doing her homework. She'd finally figured out the square root of four wasn't a rainbow.

"I'm dancin' with tears in my eyes, just fightin' to get through the night," Brittany hummed.

"Finally gonna do that Ke$ha number, huh Brit?" Kurt chuckled trying to hold back his own tears, "You know when I'm near your house, I tear up and I don't know why and when I'm alone with you... I feel like I've left something behind. I just don't know what!"

Brittany looked up from her homework and stared at the photo of her and Kurt she'd pinned to her cork board.

"I want my Ducky back..." she mumbled as she ran a finger over the photo. It was of them at Rachel's dress up birthday party –because at heart Princess Berry was all of four-, they went as the Prince and Ariel from The Little Mermaid – Kurt being a male version of Ariel and Brittany a Princess. It was so Disney-chic.

He was Ducky, she was Strawberry. No one really got it, but the two of them did and that was all that mattered. Brittany was the little sister Kurt never had, and Kurt was Brittany's 'Capital G Gay Best Friend.' They got on like a house on fire.

"I want to be back," Kurt thought about it for a moment "Most of the time anyway."

"You're a sad sight you know that, brat?"

Kurt spun around to see Puppy perched on the edge of Brittany's bed next to Nilla. Her mouth seemed to smirking, as her tail flicked slowly from left to right.

"Shut up, cat," Kurt spat.

Puppy sighed as she jumped off the bed and made a bee-line for the door, stopping just before leaving,

"You wanna leave this world right?" Kurt nodded "Then follow me, I can help you."

That, was the best news Kurt had heard in three months, two weeks and four days...

"Ow!"

"I told you, counting is bad for the toes!"


	5. Minutes

**The road to hell is paved with good intentions.**

"She'd be a good place to start."

"Who, Brittany?"

"Yes. You said it yourself, you feel like you've left something behind when you're around her. The 'leave the easiest to last' approach doesn't work here. If she has something she needs to express, you need to help her. Then she'll be fine to do the rest on her own."

A man, his dog and former cat sat in Brittany's lounge room –why they couldn't stay in Brittany's room, Kurt didn't understand, but Puppy never really liked people.

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?" Kurt asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ha probably not, but I wasn't meant to sleep on the freshly ironed clothes but I did that anyway didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Kurt chuckled at the memory of his mother and Puppy having stare offs over who would claim the clothes basket.

"Get whoever the hell it is who's counting to stop."

"Puck?"

"Yeah him. You can get into dreams right? Well tell him to stop. So his father can move on to."

"Puck's dad is dead?" Kurt mumbled trying not to whimper. He was still in Brittany's house, so he was still teary eyed.

"Elisa must really hate you," Puppy stated staring out the window.

"What the hell do you think you're doing cat!"

"Ah, Elisa, I didn't see you."

Neither did Kurt or Nilla, but random people appearing from nowhere yelling things, wasn't really a rear occurrence either.

"You shouldn't be telling him these things! He has to figure it out for himself!"

"Have my toes fallen off?" Puppy hissed, "Because I don't believe so!"

Kurt looked down at Nilla for an idea, all he could draw was blanks, _'Best we leave... Can we get broccoli?'_

Kurt shook his head slightly before he and Nilla phased through the floor and into Brittany's basement. The yelling got louder the longer Kurt thought.

"You could wake the living yelling like that" Kurt mused, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, "How the hell are we gonna get out of here without them seeing us?"

Brittany's basement was boring, nothing like his.

"Is someone there?" he heard a muffled Brittany asked through the floor, "Hello?"

"_The denser ones usually have better perception for angels."_

"Brittany!" Kurt yelled as he ran up the stairs to find Puppy and Brittany sitting in the living room.

"I'm gonna go, Kurt, she's a good place to start, but not the best."

-:-

"Hey Quinn, can you ask god to make sure Kurt gets to hell?"

Only Kurt got that, that's why he was the only one laughing, hysterically, among stricken students and a teacher.

Glee Club had gotten to be a sombre place, where for the past three and whatever months, tighter knots were being made to keep Kurt bound to the stupid world. On the outside Santana and Puck were having the least issues, even being angrily accused of letting go too soon –which led to the pair having sex, because that's what they do for a pick me up- when really, in this situation Brittany was the smart one.

"Brittany," Will began.

"What is wrong with you?" Mercedes shrieked, "How can you honestly ask something like that?"

"Gays go to hell for being gay, right? So Kurt's gonna be surrounded by loads of other dolphin men, and strawberry lip gloss listening to Judy while laughing at Rachel's shoes..." Brittany paused to glare at the shoes in question and shook her head slightly, "He said when you put it that way it doesn't sound all that bad."

Puck broke the one second silence to join Kurt in a laughing fit, closely followed by giggles from Rachel.

"Oh my god... is hell, a gay sex orgy?" Finn asked, scrunching his nose slightly before watching Rachel break down into a fit of cackles.

"Berry, you of all of us should find this the least funny," Mercedes scolded.

"Why? My father's say the same thing, minus the shoe part" Rachel paused to breath before folding over in a teary giggle fit.

Kurt could fell a weight in his stomach he didn't know he had disappear, despite the weight being pounded on his shoulders as Mercedes stormed out.

"Mercedes" Will called.

"Mr Schue, I'll get her," Rachel stated quietly, still trying to recover from her little laughing fit.

"Are you sure that's good idea?" asked Quinn.

"Yes" Rachel said proudly as she wiped the little tear off her cheek.

-:-

Emotion can be an awful thing if executed poorly. It can also be an awful thing if executed with precision; but it is not something you can practice and perfect. It is something you deal with while it controls you for the time it has you, and how you deal with it can ultimately determine its control.

"Mercedes?" Rachel called quietly as she stepped into the toilet.

"I swear Berry, you mess this up" Kurt warned as he followed closely behind her, "And you'll... regret it."

His creativity seemed too had died with him.

"What's her issue! Who does she think she is saying something like that?" Mercedes sobbed over the sink, wiping her eyes and nose with toilet paper.

"It's Brittany. She probably didn't realise it would upset you so much."

"And you! Laughing! How can you find that funny?"

"Mercedes," Rachel sighed, "Do you know what my dad's told me when I asked what 'fag' meant? They told me it stood for 'Fabulously Awesome Guy.' I didn't believe a word of it though. But every time I heard someone say it, I'd hear 'Fabulously Awesome Guy' in the back of my head and it doesn't feel as bad."

"What's your point?" Mercedes spat, glaring at the sink.

"Everyone has different ways of dealing with things. Brittany and my dad's like to give something a brighter side and share it with the world... Don't be mad a Brittany, she obviously hasn't noticed how tight you're holding on to Kurt. I don't think any of us had."

"I'm not holding on to him as much as you think."

"Yes you are. Don't you think it's a little selfish?"

"Like you can talk! You're the most selfish in Glee!"

"But I'm working on that! If I was a selfish as you think, I'd be wallowing in self pity acting like I'm the only on effected instead of here trying to talk a little sense into you!"

As Kurt watched Mercedes closely, he felt the weight on his shoulders freeze. He reached over to Nilla; resting his hand on the dog's neck he could feel the dog's nervousness.

"Damn that dog!" Mercedes screamed, making Rachel step back a little as she threw her arms up, "It's all its fault!"

As Mercedes broke down in a fit of sobs and Rachel tried to comfort her, Kurt felt the weight embed itself in his ankles while still, by some force, gripping his shoulders. He clenched his fists, only to find it made the weight seem heavier and that Nilla had left. Slowly Kurt felt his toes curl in on themselves in some form of spasm, throbbing in next to unbearable pain.

"Arrhg" Kurt wailed, tears fell from his face as Mercedes stood with a defiant look on her face, "Help! Someone make it stop!"

Kurt began to run for the door only to fall on his face through it. Looking up, he saw Sue Sylvester, looking at nothing in particular.

"Coach" he whimpered through his agony as he tried to drag himself across the floor, "Make her stop!"

Sue checked her pager before storming away.

-:-

"William, I have it under good authority that the elves in your hair use preservatives in their cookies, and that they have spilled those preservatives whilst you were dancing choreography so terrible Patches thought you were crazy, and those preservatives have seeped through your hair and into your brain, killing whatever little amount of mouth-breathing, curly-haired-with-little-elves-of-their-own brain cells you had left. Because no one could possibly be so stupid as to have students still be singing about loss, when they should be singing about moving on."

"Coach... that, was amazing!" Kurt gaped. Figgins' office was small; an allusion the tension in the room was creating.

"Sue, what I teach in my lessons is none of your business!"

"I have to agree with Sue, Will" Emma spoke confidently, "These kids can't hold on to him like this. It's cruel to them and Kurt."

Kurt watched in comfort. Whatever pain he had in his toes disappeared and the weight in his gut was light.

But he couldn't help but noticed the weight on his shoulders grew heavier as Will's eyes grew more panicked.

"Will, I understand why you can't tell them this" Emma, clutched his hands, "But you don't have to tell them, ok? Let one of the students whose more...umm."

"Ballsy, confident, normal haired?" Sue said, as she looked down on Will.

"Ready to let Kurt go, and Will? You need to lead by example. You have to let Kurt go as well."

"He knew that, he just needed to be told" Puppy said, making Kurt smirk.

"You just show up at the best moments don't you?"

"Yep. But I have something to tell you. Congrats brat, you have your own puppet... Where's the mutt?"

"Nilla ran off somewhere" Kurt stated as he got up and walked out, with Puppy trailing, "Mercedes yelled about him."

"Ah yes. So Nilla is the dog most of your friends are blaming your death on?"

"Yeah... wait, puppet!"


	6. With Love

**A friend who taught me right from wrong, and weak from strong.**

"Words... can't really hurt you" Mercedes started.

"Unless someone throws a dictionary at you" Brittany muttered, earning a couple of snickers and shushes.

"Yeah, so I just wanted to say I sorry for the way I acted last week..."

"Mercedes don't do this" Kurt warned, as his little toes curled in.

"This week, I've decided to sing out my emotions, instead of yelling them."

"No don't!" Kurt pleaded, all toes twitching.

He didn't know what song she was singing, all he heard was the definition of horrible through the throbbing in his ears. Everyone around him seemed touched, obviously hearing something else entirely. The pain in his toes slowly began to crawl up his legs as Mercedes sang more of the song. He couldn't even make out what keys Brad was playing, the throbbing in his head was so bad.

"Ahhddgah!" Kurt screamed, doubling over on the floor clutching his stomach, "Make it stop!"

A ghost's puppet is not controlled with strings, nor can it truly be totally controlled. A mere statement addressed towards the puppet can influence its actions. Much like when Kurt pleaded for Sue to try and prevent Mercedes from displaying the current show of painful, lonely teenage angst –well anyone in the Glee Club really- Sue took Will to Figgins and Emma. A puppet can never really explain the reasoning or inspiration behind these spur of the moment ideas. But a ghost, who uses their puppet poorly and cruelly, loses their toes.

"_Everybody gets one."_

"_Thanks for that Spiderman. But why Coach?"_

"_Pfft! You brat, what would I know?"_

"Schuester!" Sue yelled; making every instrument in the room come to a halt, bringing Mercedes down with it.

"Oh thank god!" Kurt gasped in relief.

"Sue, you can't disturb one of my students like this!"

"Figgins want to see you, now!" Sue stated simply before turning and walking out of the room. Will sighed, as he gave the Gleeks an apologetic look,

"I'm sorry guys" he said quickly before following Sue.

"What the hell for!" Kurt muttered bitterly.

-:-

"Sue!"

"William."

"No. No, don't 'William' me! Do you have any idea what you just did! How embarrassed you made Mercedes?"

"No. William, sit down. I want to be able to tell you something while looking you in the eye and not have to look down when my neck gets sore and be tempted to insult your choice in ties."

Will sat down; he figured this had to be good. He'd only ever shown up in her office for two reasons, when she called for him, and when he was pissed. But what he was feeling right know was beyond pissed.

"Well Sue? What's your excuse?"

"Close the door."

"Everyone's in class, stop stalling."

"William, you and your students don't seem to realise Kurt Hummel is dead. He was bitten by a stray, got an infection, and died; and yet, you let these kids sing their hearts about him, loving him, holding on to him, Will. They should be singing about loving and holding on to memories of him, and letting him go. It's been nearly four months. This is cruel."

"Sue," Will muttered in disbelief, "Why do you care?"

Sue looked will up and down with a critical eye before standing up and closing the door of her office and taking a seat next to Will.

"William, what I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. If it does, my kitty cat offer is still open, only I'll smash all your Christopher Cross CDs as well, to annoy you and for the good of humanity. Do I make myself clear?"

Will nodded stiffly. He was shaking in his seat; he was finally getting what he's wanted from Sue for a long time, in different situations. A straight answer.

"Lady reminded me of someone very special to me. Facing the world day after day, and taking all of its crap in their stride. While yes, their situations are totally different, and some may even say it's wrong to compare them; but I'm talking about sheer strength, Schuester, and it takes a lot. I'll even admit it, I liked the kid, I looked up to him when I wasn't looking down on him. I will not have him treated this way. Now get out of my office."

Will probably hadn't moved so fast in all his life. He figured if he hung around for too long, it'd ruin the moment and make him look like an idiot; and give Sue to insult him over.

-:-

Whether heaven and hell exist is a debate that has lasted through the ages. Though the words themselves lost their meanings of exclusion to a place we go when we die sometime ago. The ability to damn someone to hell and declare what heaven is has turned to habit as a first source of insult or elation. But what heaven and hell are and aren't is up to the ghost to decide. Earth was made for the living and the 'light' was made for the dead, but is shared by both; either of these can be hell or heaven for ghosts. It all depends where they hearts are at.

"She wants to be his champion..." Elisa mumbled to her knees.

"So why don't you help her?" Puppy asked as her tail flicked, catching the light of the Paris sunset perfectly.

"Because I don't see the point in making people let go, why can't he wait till they're all dead? Worked for me" Elisa replied, exhausted. She lifted her head from their perch on her knees and let her knees drop from her chest to dangle of the edge of the building.

"You had to wait less than a week. The brat's gonna be waiting for decades at least."

"You know, when my family died they all moved on to their next life within the week. Everyone died off, no chance of their name being repeated. I have been hanging around for hundreds of years; I think he can deal with a few decades."

"And become a bitter, resentful bitch like you? No, I'm not letting you do that" Puppy stated in a teasing way.

"I honestly don't care..."

A comfortable silence fell over the two as they watched the sun fall further and the sky grow darker.

"He'll help you" Puppy stated quickly "But you have to help him, and his friend's father."

"Convince me."

"I can't..."

Slowly, Puppy faded, leaving Elisa to think it all over.

-:-

"Brat, you're coming to Paris!" Puppy exclaimed.

"Did you know Santana had the tiniest of crushes on me in third grade? And that thing I feel I've left behind with Brittany? It's my journal... She reads it every night."

"Hello? Earth to you! Paris?"


	7. Alone

**I wonder where you are tonight, no answer on the telephone.**

He had no idea what the hell he was playing, but it was beautiful. As was his singing; but what's new?

Paris, who knew it was a wandering ghost's heaven?

Thousands sat in front of him as he played whatever it was and sung whatever it was. He'd never felt so alive, even if _'That sounds so wrong'_ was ringing in the back of his head to remind him _'You're dead!'_

No one would ever know such an event took place, ghost after ghost, coming up on stage to show off their skills in whatever it is they do. 'Phantom of the Opera, Without the Opera' the sign out the front had read.

At what point he slipped into playing and singing ABBA's 'Winner Takes It All' he couldn't seem to understand, though the song seemed appropriate.

He couldn't help but think, what was Lima doing at this moment?

Finn would be plotting to touch Rachel's boobs.

Carole would be throwing up.

Burt would be stressing.

Rachel would be trying to find a reason to let Finn touch her boobs again other than, _'I'm horny, touch me, touch me, touch me!'_

Santana would be in denial over Brittany.

Brittany would be drawing a unicorn eating a rainbow.

Mercedes would be tying him tighter to the earth.

His ashes would be flying in the wind somewhere...

Kurt looked down at Nilla, who was lying on the floor next to the grandest piano in the whole world; _'What? Are you doing ABBA's greatest hits?'_

S.O.S. Spell it backwards, it says the same thing, just like ABBA's name. The silly things you notice... or game shows tell you.

'_I guess so'_ Kurt thought to himself as he continued. All that were in front of him were focused on him, not stealing a glance of him swaying in the background or staring at Berry; him, they were paying attention to him! He even heard a few coos when he glanced at Nilla from time to time.

He'd figured his time was finished. He stood up and gave bow and stepped off stage, Nilla close at his thigh.

"Brilliant, better than when you were three" Puppy stated, as they sat in their seats amongst the crowd.

"Of course it was, back then I wasn't playing a real piano. Just one of those things the kid from 'Charlie Brown' plays."

Puppy giggled as the lights dimmed and whoever it was walked on stage.

-:-

'_Dickhead, how do you not know you're obsessed with ABBA?'_

"I don't know" Kurt laughed as his fumbled with his bags "I can't remember the last time I played a song of theirs."

'_Dork.'_

"Yeah, but you love me for it!"

'_Cupcakes?'_

"Oh, yes! I'm starved."

For Kurt, the best thing about being a ghost was being able to eat whatever the hell he wanted, and not break out or get fat; and have all the designer clothes he wanted without paying a cent. He could only imagine Sue's reaction to his new diet – mainly consisting of cupcakes, broccoli and red cordial. He was the most hypo ghost he knew.

Despite the fun he knew he was having, he couldn't ignore the empty, sinking feeling in his stomach. He'd barely even given a thought to his friends and family over the past week and a half. Kurt thought he should be guilty, until he bit into his cupcake and instantly thought _'Screw it, I'm in Paris!'_

"I think... I have an addiction" Kurt muttered as he finished off his fifth cupcake glancing at Nilla,

'_You make it sound like it's a bad thing. What do you think it is, crack?'_

Kurt laughed, just as a woman walked up to him and gave him a kind smile,

"Do you and your dog here talk?" she asked, as Kurt took in fully what she was wearing. Trailer trash.

He opened his mouth to answer, only to snap it shut and fully think it through. He hadn't ever really put much thought into the way he and Nilla communicated; he assumed everyone could do it. He'd only ever half heartedly agree when people said that they had a special bond, now he was thinking there was more to what they'd said than just having Nilla at his beckon call.

"No. No, I just look at him and know what he's thinking" Kurt mumbled as stroked the dog's head lightly.

"Ah..." the woman looked the two of them up and down, "So, was he your pet before you each died?"

"No. I didn't know he existed till the day I died..."

"Kid, do you know what all this is?" the woman asked, gesturing to the city around them, "This is an escape, for ghosts who can't be bothered to help their loved ones let go or those who are just tired. Which one are you?"

"My cat brought me... I think she thought I needed a break. I'm trying to get everyone to let go."

"Well then, good for you!" she cheered as she smacked him on the back, "The name's Corrie, by the way."

"Kurt and this is Vanilla. Nilla for short."

"Cute."

"Come on Corrie," Kurt sighed taking her hand, "You need a makeover, like, now!"

-:-

He did it. He made trailer trash Corrie, into the fabulously dressed woman that shared the view of the sunset with himself and Nilla. Not that it was all that big a deal.

"Thank you for this Kurt" she said, as she fiddled with the buttons on her dress.

"No, thank you! It's been forever since I've given a decent makeover" Kurt exclaimed, feel a little hypo.

"Hey, brat! Come on, we gotta get our arses back of Lima!" Puppy yelled from behind them, "You're getting too comfortable!"

How a ghost could fade away and fade into a totally different place was beyond Kurt. He'd figured how to do it to objects, but he couldn't do it to himself. He theorized it had something to do with how long one had been dead, or maybe it was a zombie thing.

"Lima? Ohio?" Corrie asked.

"Yeah, you been there?" asked Puppy, planting herself between Kurt and Corrie.

"No, but I know a few people who lived there, they've all passed over. Idiots, they gave all this up for the light!"

"So, you're one of the ones who can't be bothered?" Kurt questioned, without taking his gaze off the view.

"Nope, zombie, twenty years. I decided to pull disappearing acts."

"Don't you think that's a little cruel?"

"Nah. I hated the lot of 'em anyway, and they know I'm alive, just not where. Besides, after twenty years of not aging in the slightest, I had to go. I should look forty-five, not twenty-five."

"And who said death in bad for the complexion?" Puppy mused.

After what seemed like an eternity, Corrie left, but not without promising to listen to Kurt's clothing advice.

"What happened? At home?" Kurt asked, looking down at Puppy.

"The blonde cheerleader's close to letting go."


	8. Stronger

**My loneliness aint killing me no more. **

Kurt didn't realise he was crying, but he also didn't realise he was dead after staring at his own body for five hours.

"I'm sick and tired of the mess you made me, you're never gonna catch me cry," Brittany sang to the Glee Club with more emotion than most of them thought she could. Ke$ha's song 'Blind' wasn't exactly the song that would come into one's head when one wants to sing about elation of a morbid depression, but still it got the point across, lifting another weight off Kurt's chest.

While most of the Club probably assumed Brittany had no idea what she was singing, the empty feeling in Kurt's stomach told him otherwise.

Kurt pried his eyes away from Brittany to look at the rest of his friends. Unimpressed seemed to be the theme; minus Puck and Santana, feigning a lack of interest.

"Very nice, Brittany" commented Will once she was done.

"Mr Schue," Quinn began, "I thought we were meant to sing a happy song this week..."

"But it is" Brittany stated, "It makes me happy."

The rest of the Club looked a little dumbfounded as Brittany took her seat. Rachel quickly took charge,

"My fellow Glee Clubbers, as you are well aware this week our assignment was to sing a 'happy' song. My happy song will be my shower song, which changes every week. Normally I keep them to myself and only sing them exclusively in the shower, but I spent twenty minutes last night dancing around my room singing this one... in the wrong key."

As Rachel nodded towards Brad and the band to start, Kurt felt the nagging urge to stuff his ears with socks destroyed by a need to laugh, hysterically, like a maniac.

"You can dance, you can jive!" Rachel sang, as she moved into simple choreography of prancing around the room dancing with random gleeks. She was loose and unserious, unlike her normal performances which were normally packed with emotion of some form - that isn't 'Fun & Fancy-Free'.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me!" Kurt gasped between laughs, "Dancing Queen, Berry? Really!"

"_I'm a little bit psychic."_

"Oh, you got to freaking kidding me!" Kurt mumbled in a deadpan tone, forcing his laughing fit to a halt, "Elisa!"

He knew well enough by now that Elisa hated him, and was keeping Puck's father away from him somehow, intending on keeping the both of them on earth for as long as possible; but she was still compelled to answer his questions at least... and he may or may not have stepped on Puppy's tail just as they arrived back in Lima from Paris, making her a little sour.

"Good lor- What is this!"

"This is a Glee Club, Elisa. The girl singing in the awful, awful owl sweater is Rachel Berry. She claimed she's a little psychic, and now she's singing a song that's been suck in her head all week, after I spent a week before hand singing it in Paris," Kurt watched as Elisa nodded and moved her eyebrows up and down as he talked, "Coincidence or was she onto something?"

"Maybe both," Elisa commented thoughtfully, "You'll have to test it out. I've seen a couple of psychics like this, they're like puppets only they're not bound to one person and are most tempted to speak out their impulsive thoughts, not so much act on them... You have a bit of a set up of pawns here."

-:-

Pawns are used in the game of chess as tools to help reach your ultimate goal, to take out your opponent's king and keep yours safe. They set up the game and can be used to ploy the opponent into traps and keep ones self out of them. While many assume the king and queen rule the game of chess, the peasant pawns help to keep their power in balance.

"All right, Nilla help me out."

'_The cheerleader... Brittany, right?'_

"Yep. Ok, she's really close to letting go, she just needs to give the journal to someone else... meaning when she does, I can use Coach to make Brit help the rest of glee to let go, and once Rachel's let go I can have her say what I need her to..."

'_You need Puck's father though...'_

"I know... Remember what Elisa said? 'We all die three times.' If we make her third death happen, whatever she's doing to keep him away will be... is destroyed the right word?"

'_Really? You're asking me?'_

"Shut up. What's the third death?"

'_When her name is spoken for the last time.'_

"Right... I'm not sure how I can make that happen..."

Kurt paced up and down the frozen food section of the supermarket. As strange a place it may be for brainstorming, it was funny to watch people shiver and cringe at the cold air. He needed to figure out how to get away from this world. It was finally doing his head in, boring him even.

'_What about your father?'_

"I think the baby will help him more than I could. There's what? Like four months left?"

He felt guilty for brushing his father off so easily, but it was true, Kurt couldn't figure out how to help him. He was having enough trouble helping himself. It was one of those feelings where he just wants to break down and cry knowing no one can see him, but he can't, scared he'll never stop. He kept the emotion down by simply thinking _'There are people worse off than you.'_

Not that he totally understood that reasoning. But Nilla just seemed to nod along when he'd rant on about it.

"Do you think... there are ghosts or zombies, who can take ghosted objects with them into human view?" He mentally choked on the fact that he no longer recognised himself as human.

'_Maybe...' _Nilla frowned, _'Why?'_

"Because... I think, as Elisa put it, I need another pawn..."

-:-

Ghost can be easily translated to _'Selfish, user prick' _if one really gave half a minute of thought. They use their loved ones to no end for their needs and wants. Or forget them and walk off, usually to Paris... or phase off, depending on the ghost. But when you have nothing to live for, it doesn't seem as heartless as a lot of people would accuse.


	9. Time

**The blackness within me, and the void would be calling.**

The smells that stick to the clothes of a dead loved one can often be the source of reluctance to let go and fully acknowledge they're dead. One can lose a sensible state of mind and totally blanket themselves in clothes and sleep, or feel the need to be so close to the loved one that they succumb to the urge to simply put the clothes on; a small feat for the riches of being bathed in a heavenly scent.

Burt sat on Kurt's bed, his head slowly nodding to whatever rock ballad was playing in the background. He was guessing Finn had landed on the couch and fallen asleep to it. Burt had been there twenty minutes, just staring at the wardrobe. Maybe, waiting for his son to jump out dressed in something ripped out of 'Priscilla: Queen of the Desert', like he'd do when he was young or high on red cordial.

"Burt? Honey, what are you doing?" Carole called, as she quietly waddled down the stairs.

"Nothing, Hun... Just thinking," Burt answered, moving over to let Carole have a seat.

"About what?"

"Kurt," he sighed, "Nearly six months, and I still expect him to walk in on me eating crappy food and go on about some tirade of healthy eating. But then, it doesn't happen and I just don't know what to do with myself." Carole nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the wardrobe.

"I expect him to tell me my clothes are all wrong in the mornings, I sometimes think of an argument against him when I'm still half asleep," Carole mused.

They sat in a comfortable silence, internally acknowledging the end of the rock ballad and the next starting. Carole rested her head on Burt's shoulder,

"How did Kurt... deal with Kirsty's death?" It had always been a question at the middle of her brain.

"Better than me and better than I thought he would. Our cat disappeared when he was four, Puppy her name was..."

"You named your cat Puppy?"

"No, Kurt did. She was the weirdest cat ever, just a dog messed up. She'd fetch balls, dig useless holes in the back yard and roll around in the dirt and mud with Kurt."

"Kurt? In mud?"

"If it's any consolation, he'd give himself mud facials. But, one day when he was four... I don't know, Puppy just snapped and did a nasty job of Kurt's eye. We didn't see her again. It was hard on Kurt, that cat was his best friend."

"What'd you do?"

"Told him the truth, she'd left and we didn't know why. Kirsty's idea, her mother had lied to her about what had happened to her dog and she couldn't look at her the same again... She couldn't stand the thought of Kurt looking at us like that. He cried for a whole week, Kirsty panicked over him getting dehydrated from crying so much." They chuckled at the thought of the brunette pacing the house throwing a fit, whilst juggling glasses of water.

"What did he do when Kirsty died? I mean, I know he would've cried but... uhhg, how do I put it?"

"What did he do that I thought I should've?"

"Yeah."

"A lot. But just mostly little things, like cleaning dishes, her things that were left lying around the house he'd put away. I think the worst thing was he was trying to help me, when I was doing next to nothing to help him..."

"What'd he do?" Finn asked suddenly and quietly, sitting up on the couch, "You said mostly little things, what was the big thing?"

"He..." Burt hesitated then sighed, letting his shoulders sag, "I'd left for work, it was about a week after Kirsty died. I was still in the mindset of 'My World Has Been Destroyed', and I totally forgot about Kurt that morning. I have no idea when he got out of bed, or what he did when he figured out he was locked in the house by himself. But he'd spent the whole day alone; I didn't get home till about nine o'clock. Kurt was sitting in front of the TV, watching something he probably shouldn't of."

-:-

"_How was school?" Burt asked numbly, noting the boy was eating two pieces of bread pressed together._

"_Didn't go" Kurt shrugged as he turned to pay the TV full attention._

"_Why the hell not?" Burt nearly yelled as he stomped over, turning the TV off and staring down at his son. Kurt shrank down into himself slightly, gripping his sandwich with shivering hands._

"_You locked me inside" he whispered, looking down at the floor._

_Burt's shoulders sagged as he felt his gut drop with guilt. He forgot about his own son? Kurt hadn't even crossed his mind._

-:-

"At some point during the day, I guess, Kurt took it upon himself to put all of his mother's clothes in bags and stuff them in a closet. I was getting ready for bed when I opened the drawers, to find Kirsty's half empty."

-:-

"_Kurt!" Burt all but screamed as he stomped down to Kurt's room, "What the hell do you think gives you the right, to throw away your mother's clothes, huh!"_

"_But I-"_

"_You what? You thought it was ok to practically throw your mother away like that? What kind of a-"_

"_They're in the closet!" Kurt screeched._

"_And that makes it better!"_

"_No! It makes it easier!"_

-:-

"Then he went on to say, just knowing they were there only made it sadder or something. I can't remember what he said exactly, but he basically said he had to do it seeing as how he'd been there with her to buy most of it; he had to pack away the clothes, I think that's how he sort of dealt with it. We... we didn't really talk for two days, he was convinced I hated him."

They sat quietly for nearly three minutes. It seemed to drag on forever, until the alarm for the oven went off, prompting Carole to go check on the food with Burt trailing behind.

"What are we going to do about Kurt's clothes?" Carole sighed, pulling the pan out of the oven, "They're just sitting there."

"I think... I think it's something Finn has to do," Burt stated, making Carole's brow shoot up, "He spends all his time down there, I think he has to be the one to make the move to clear it all out. I mean we're calling the basement 'Finn's Room' Finn still calls it 'Kurt's Room'. When he's ready, we'll clear Kurt's things and make it Finn's... Chicken looks good, babe."

-:-

It was ironic, oddly enough. What was now the biggest reminder of Kurt had been locked in wardrobe of nearly six months – that was irony at its finest.

That's what Finn thought anyway.

He stood in front of Kurt's wardrobe, his sweaty hands fidgeting at his sides. Burt had told him of Kurt's clothes packing just the night before, now at twelve in the morning, he felt somewhat inspired.

But more or less, he was shitting bricks. He didn't know if Kurt would haunt him for folding one of his jackets the wrong way or something.

But no. He had to do this, if Kurt was so pedantic about it he shouldn't of died and done it himself...

"Whoa Finn," he muttered to himself, "That was low..."

Slowly he reached for the knobs. He laid his fingers on top of the lightly, shifting them to grip the knob. Just as he began turning them his mother yelled from up stairs,

"Finn! Lunch!"

When Carole had early lunches, everyone else in the house had early lunches. When she has late lunches, everyone had late lunches. It all depended on when her cravings hit, and she'd always make too much for herself to eat.

"Looks good, mum."

"Thank you honey."

So he ate. Putting off what he knew in his gut he had to do. But he was totally cool with that... right?


	10. Only The Good

**We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.**

"Hey, Santana?"

"Yeah Brit?"

"Do you have one of those hair colour things? You know, they're like straighteners, but they colour hair instead of making it flat..."

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you help me with something tomorrow?"

-:-

It didn't make much sense to Santana – kneeling in front of Kurt's grave stone, colouring locks Brittany's hair pink, of all colours.

"Brit?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we doing this? Here of all places?"

"Over his dead body."

Santana moved her hands away from Brit's hair, feeling her face blanch and heart sink to her stomach.

"What?" she muttered, hands shaking and her lips barely moving.

"Kurt said that I can dye my hair pink over his dead body... and I know they threw him into the air, but this is kind of the same right?" Brittany said not turning away from the grave stone, keeping her back to Santana.

Santana felt all the pain and sadness she'd repressed over the past few months punch her in the gut. She put the hair colourer down and looped her arms under Brittany's, hugging her from behind. Resting her head on Brit's shoulder, she let tears fall and the occasional sob out. They sat like that for what felt like an eternity of Santana's painful expression and Brittany rubbing circles across her opposite's hands, leaning her head back to rest lightly against Santana's, whilst letting her own silent tears fall.

"How do you do it?" Santana mumbled, tightening her grip slightly.

"Do what?"

"Deal with it so... so well." Brittany kept silent, gripping Santana's hand and bringing it to her mouth, kissing it gently.

"I just don't think he'd want us to be so upset. He never liked forcing his problems on others."

"This is a little different from bullying, Brit."

"Yeah, I know. But, it's still the same Kurt right?"

"... Right."

Santana couldn't help but feel envious; Brittany was able to see the world in such a simple way, but could still see it for what it really was and tried to make to lighter.

Santana composed herself, wiping her nose and stray tears away with her sleeve, and returned to colouring Brittany's hair. Brit needed this, Santana needed this... Kurt needed this. Hell, Glee Club needed this. Someone to follow, Mr Schue wasn't really doing his bit.

"There, done."

"Thank you."

-:-

He wanted to sit there with them, listen to what they were saying. Learn why Santana was crying. But he couldn't, it felt to wrong to move from where he was, out of earshot. He couldn't see what Santana was doing to Brittany's hair; he couldn't even see Brittany's face.

He thought it was odd how the unspeakable weight lifting from him was as heartbreaking as dying had been.

Slowly, they began to pack up – Santana putting whatever she had in her bag and Brittany picking up hers. They made their way to Kurt's direction, pinkies linked, arms brushing and heads resting on each others. The corners of Kurt's mouth tugged upwards, sadly. He found it depressing, yet oddly elating, that the two girls had come together in such a way because of his death.

The girls stayed silent as they continued to walk, simply savouring the moment they were having for all it was worth; as was Kurt, who couldn't help but feel privileged to be witnessing the rare emotional moment between the girls. Anything about it being hot was lost on him, but anyone could appreciate the feeling and devotion that was there.

"Oh, I wanted to give you something" Brittany exclaimed, when they reached the car park and were standing two feet from Kurt. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book, covered in magazine clippings and photos.

"What's this?" Santana asked, breaking pinkies and taking hold of the book.

Kurt had expected a light, some form of firework show, not such an anti-climax of sheer nothing.

"It's Kurt's journal, he left at my house the last time he slept over and I kept forgetting to give it back and he never asked for it back anyway, so I guess he didn't really miss it."

"Yeah, but why are you giving it to me?" Santana sounded so small Kurt would've given his arm just to hug her. Brittany shrugged,

"I don't know, but I don't need it anymore," she smiled and Kurt saw it. It was the fireworks, the light, only it was subtle and calm, with a ripple effect then an all out bang.

He hadn't noticed that the world had gotten duller, grey in its overtones. But he could see Brittany, shining.

She'd let go, and the oddity of it all left Kurt. He got it. It's meant to be heartbreaking, there was no weight pushing down on anything. It was pressing the pieces of his heart together, holding it stable. He couldn't be happier.

"I love you Brit," Kurt said with a watery smile, taking in the light and warmth radiating off her as everything her felt for her, left.

-:-

'_I think I get it."_

"Get what, Nilla?"

'_The whole letting go thing. To pass over you can't feel anything for them, and when they let go, you essentially give them the love you feel for them so they can still feel something for you... or of you."_

"...It makes sense... do you think, I'll become miserable?"

"No, just heartless, no pun intended. You won't feel anything for anything that ain't dead."

"Ah, Puppy, talking to me again?"

"Yes. I didn't really stop, you just didn't call."

"You said not to!"

"Well it's nice to know you listen ... what's going on here then?" Puppy asked, nodding her head ahead of them.

Mike stood on stage, a hand on his hip as the other rubbed at his forehead, frustrated.

"He's trying to figure out a dance, we were going to do it together before I died. He's been working on it for a couple of weeks now, he can't figure out how to turn it from a two person dance to a one person dance. We moved around each other a lot, and he'd look like an idiot trying to do the same steps by himself."

They watched him for an hour, listening to the music starting and stopping at its climax and the frustrated yell that came with the repeated abuse of the pause button. Nilla would bark in disapproval when Mike stopped, just as he got a decent rhythm. Puppy flicked her tail with Mike's swift movements and twitched her ears to the beat, shaking her head slightly at every stop. Kurt stared blankly, internally calculating.

"You should help him" Puppy suggested quietly.

"How?"

"Do you remember when you were living, those random chills that ran through your body for no reason?" Kurt nodded, "A ghost's touch, Kurt. Random inspiration? A ghost's lead. Help him."

Kurt didn't really have any idea what he was meant to do, no good ideas jumped into his head as he jumped down from the tops of seat to seat from the top of auditorium. He just had to wing it.

Just as Kurt landed on the stage, Mike sent his foot through his stomach.

"Mike," Kurt cooed, "Calm down." He brushed his finger tips across Mike's shoulders. Mike flinched, the peeved look left his eyes and his shoulders sagged.

"Why can't I get this?" he hissed, turning towards the i-pod dock. Kurt reached out and grabbed his wrist, only to have his fingers fall through and touch his own palms.

"Let me do it with you, come on. Try again."

Kurt knew Mike wasn't psychic, nor a puppet and he definitely wasn't a zombie; but, he couldn't help but think, maybe Mike could hear him, just that little bit. Maybe Mike determination on his and Kurt's dance, their dance, had brought him closer to Kurt.

Mike sighed and restarted the music, Guy Sebastian's 'Like It Like That'. It hadn't even started as a serious number, just a random song they listened to while waiting for the rest of the Glee Club to arrive and worked on it when they nothing better to do. An accident... a homoerotic accident, but an accident none the less.

Mike had no issue with Kurt and Kurt had no issue with Mike. They just saw each other as equals, unless dancing, which Mike exceeded Kurt by quite a bit. Mike hadn't an issue with suggestive dances with anyone, a dance was a dance and he was just happy he was able to do it outside of his bedroom.

Mike's eyes meet Kurt's, as they stepped in synch with each other. Swaying the hips, flicking their wrists, standing close enough for Mike to visibly shiver. Points where Kurt was meant to touch Mike, whether it'd be a sweep over the shoulders with his hands of a high five, he'd always go a little too far and through Mike. Mike never seemed to notice in the heat of the moment, already cold from the little distance between him and Kurt.

When Kurt went to touch Mike's chest he fell right through, and landed on his stomach. When he got up, he realized Mike was still dancing for the little bit of the song left. Kurt couldn't help but smile, he really did look like an idiot dancing by himself.

"Why do you think he can dance so well without seeing me?" Kurt yelled, not taking his eyes away from Mike.

"He's a dancer; do you think if he has an amazing idea he can dance it the second he thinks it? No, he has to envision it. That's all he's doing." Kurt nodded slowly. The song stopped and Mike fell on his back laughing, his head landing between Kurt's feet.

"Feel better?"

That had somehow tipped Mike over the edge as he stood up and restarted the music. Kurt quickly jumped off the stage, landing in a seat a few rows back from the stage.

It was perfect. Every move just made sense; Kurt had never seen Mike prouder. But he felt nothing, no pride, no joy, not even sadness of hurt that he was cut out of their dance. But Mike was still dull, not as dull though. Kurt could still feel something for Mike, just not the dance.

"Amazing Mike," Kurt said, void of emotion, "Simply amazing."


	11. Beth

**Just a few more hours, and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling.**

"Lose the Bieber cut, please."

"Yeah dude, you look like a douche."

Puck and Artie stood in front of Sam, backing him into the lockers in a mock intervention.

"Shut up, are we going to class or what?"

"Haircut," Puck and Artie said in unison as they followed Sam.

"History."

"Haircut" Santana yelled as they walked past her locker.

"See, Sam? Everyone's for it just say yes" Artie stated, turning into their classroom.

It had been an argument that lasted three weeks, what Sam should and shouldn't do with his hair. Glee Club was divided on the choice.

"No, it's stupid. The way I have my hair is easy. Wake up and run my fingers through it. That's all!"

"You know what's easier? A Mohawk," Puck stated pointing to his head as they sat down. Artie slapped across the head, "Oww, dude!"

"Courtesy of my inner Kurt. Are you kidding? A Mohawk? He'd look even more ridiculous than he already does!"

"Dude, I'm right here."

Puck, Artie and Sam had become comfortable enough to be able to randomly bring up Kurt and talk about him without it being full of angst. Though they couldn't do it around the rest of the Club, who were still having issues with it all.

"Have you guys had any... weird dreams lately?" Artie queried a little awkwardly, writing down the question they had to do.

"Like what?"

"Well, last night the whole dream, I was talking to Kurt. I can't remember about what though, but at the end of it, just before he faded away he said 'For the good of my toes, stop him counting.' He was like a big kid the whole time."

"For the good of his toes?" Sam mumbled slowly, "What junk are you taking before you sleep, Artie?"

"Nothing!" Artie spat defensively, "It makes a much sense to you as it does me, but I remember it so vividly."

"I had dream like that once," Puck muttered thoughtfully whilst trying to balance a pen on his upper lip, "When I was skipping maths and having a nap. He never said anything about toes though, just kept saying 'Stop and you'll shine'. It was really creepy, did he have a messed up shoulder in your dream too Artie?"

"Yeah, it was bleeding and oozing pus and everything. He didn't seem fazed, but I couldn't stop staring at it. I swear it was daring me to touch it."

Sam grimaced at the image of Kurt's shoulder sprouting an arm and hand, and poking him saying 'Touch me, I know you want to!'

"Did you see any bone?" probed Puck, a cheeky grin slowly forming on his face.

"Dude, eww. That's wrong on so many levels" muttered Sam, throwing an eraser at Puck's head.

-:-

'_Stop counting. Please.'_

"Get out of my head!" Puck screamed as he ran, from nothing in particular. He wasn't running in fear, it was more or less out of annoyance. It was one of _those _dreams.

'_But you'll shine. It's really pretty. Please, do it for me.'_

"I have no idea who you are!"

Puck never understood what people found so amazing about stars. They were just there, they didn't do anything and he'd never seen a shooting one no matter how long he stared at them.

To add to how pointless he found admiring them, every bad dream he'd ever had was upon floating rock platforms and the sky was replaced with pitch black and stars that glowed bright red. It became what he envisioned hell to be, at night.

'_Yes you do,' _the voice in his head giggled like a child, _'Please listen.'_

Maybe it was the sheer desperation in the voice, or the fact that he had reached the end of a platform and hadn't taken thought in a decent run up for a jump, but Puck skidded to a stop. He could feel the sweat rolling down his face and neck. _These_ dreams were different from any other dream. You could feel anything that touched you and still feel the after effects when you woke up. Every sensation, every emotion stays with you as vividly as a ten minute old memory.

"Where are you?" Puck yelled, panting as he looked around and above him even taking a quick look over the edge of the rock. He really didn't know, he'd never heard the voice before in his life.

'_It's for the toes, Noah. Do it for the toes.'_

"Show yourself! Please!"

A star, just above him began to float down, stopping at Puck's eye line. Its glow was a little different from what he'd thought a stars glow would be. He suddenly got what Marlin and Dory found so enticing about the anglerfish's light, as he brought his hand up to touch it. It quickly flinched away, taking the chill radiating off it too. He couldn't force himself to follow it; his legs froze at the idea. Literally, his legs went dead cold.

"Only because you said please" the star said coyly.

The star quickly dissolved into deep red sand about a meter from Puck. Just as it hit the ground, a cold wind picked up, hitting Puck's side with a painfully cold slap. Puck couldn't help but think it was a little cliché, whoever was talking to him would form out of sand; and then when it all ended they would dissolve back into sand and the bitingly cold wind would carry it back into the stars. The sand was picked up by the wind, and taken off the edge. Each little grain began to glow as its own individual star.

"You didn't really think I'd show myself with dirt, did you?" a husky voice whispered in his ear from behind. It's breath colder than the winds.

"Ho- shit!" Puck yelled, spinning around clamping his eyes shut, "Don't do that!"

"Open your eyes, Puck."

Puck was kicking himself; he should've seen this coming. The big thing about _these _dreams is that _he _was always, always in them. _He_ could do whatever he wanted, including changing his voice.

"Kurt! Dude, you suck!"

"No, you're stupid. You should've figured it out by now, what is this? The ninth time?"

"Just leave me alone!"

Puck felt like an idiot. Kurt was right, this was the ninth of one of _those_ dreams; he should've figured out the signs by now. But, no matter how many times he had _these_ dreams, Kurt's appearance always sent chills up his spine.

Kurt didn't wear any shoes, it didn't so much chill Puck as it did confuse him. He'd lost count of the time Kurt had gone on about shoes. White seemed to be the main colour. He wore skinny jeans and a singlet. His hands were adorned with white, fingerless gloves and his wrists were cluttered with bracelets and bangles.

What freaked Puck out was Kurt's left shoulder and the base of his neck. It was a mess of blood, flesh and pus. Weird orange stains were visible on his shirt, and dried blood had crusted over and was flaking from his arm like dandruff to make room for new blood.

"Do you plan on actually doing something, or are you just gonna annoy me again?" Puck asked bitterly. Kurt stared at him for a couple of seconds before quickly raising his hand and smacking Puck across the face. He sped off in a fit of cackles,

"Come on! What do you think is more fun?"

It wasn't hard for Puck to catch up, well, it wouldn't of had been if getting too close to Kurt hadn't meant him nearly freezing.

"Why are you so cold?" Puck yelled ahead, making Kurt stop dead in his tracks with Puck nearly running into him.

"Why do you think?" Kurt asked emotionlessly.

"I don't know..."

"Well, you have to stop counting then..."

"What does that have to do with you being cold?" Kurt blinked at Puck with an incredulous look as if he should've known.

"It has everything to do with it, Noah" Kurt muttered, in the same voice that had been ringing in Puck's head at the start as he faded away to nothing.

-:-

"Noah, Noah! Wake up!"

"Ngh."

"Come on! We're gonna be late, you have to drive me to school today, remember?"

"Ugh, yes Sarah I remember!" Puck groaned as he sat up in his bed.

"Jeez, what happened to your cheek? It's bright red."

"Huh? Oh, that. Bad dream, don't worry about it."

"This is like the third time you've hurt yourself in your sleep because of a dream."

"Yeah, I know."

-:-

For a ghost be on the dream space of a loved one, they have no choice but to revert to the personality they had before they died. As a ghost changes and easily becomes bitter and resentful. In a dream the pain in ones toes is tenfold. But the loved one can never fully recollect everything that happens in these dreams, whether they're missing images or voices. Nor can they remember all the dreams the dead control.

**AN: I'm tired... Not really relevant to anything but hey! I just started reading a new amnesia story and had a mental sigh because someone bet me to the punch. I've had it sitting on my computer for a couple of weeks now, always putting it off for this one. I didn't know whether or not to do anything with it, because hello? Amnesia story, totally kicking myself with originality. Plus, a story that had been discontinued about amnesia was really brought down on because they didn't heaps of research or whatever (that and they were with holding chapters for reviews, I didn't know it was happening, I never read the AN). But any story about amnesia I've ever read here is angsty, and don't get me wrong, I'm a angst whore but so many funny moments could be made with it and it doesn't really happen; and they've all been nasty in the way they get done in - i.e. rape, sevre beating. Mines just a boring car accident. Now I don't want to post it. Ignore me rant, I've been told several times that I need help XD Later scat cats! **


	12. Windows

**I'll probably always have these ugly scars, but right now I don't care about that part.**

He couldn't actually remember arriving at the hospital. He remembered a dog, Finn and Rachel yelling at him and then nothing. Well, there was pain, a lot of it; and struggling, but it pretty much went black after all that. Though, he wished it had stayed black, at least until Rachel left.

"_Kurt! Why didn't you listen? We told you, stay away from the dog. How do you not get that! Now look at you!"_

"_Berry, ugh!"_

"_What's wrong? Kurt, dude!"_

"_Uhhg, Finn, stop panicking! I have a killer... killer headache..."_

"_Dude, when have you ever used a word like 'killer'?"_

"_Probably around the same time you didn't call me dude!"_

-:-

"Stop thinking so hard, it's off putting."

"So are your eyes."

"Oh really? How so?"

"Well, most cats have one colour for both eyes; you have a colour of each eye. It was like you had two souls and they were both staring at me."

"Seriously? You didn't seem to care as a kid."

"Yeah, but looking at old photos when I got older made it creepy."

"Oh I get it now! Dead cat staring into your soul from a plastic sheet, you're an idiot!"

"Yeah... Do you really think I think too hard?"

"It depends. What _were_ you think about?"

"You can't hear my thoughts? Then how do you know I'm thinking to hard?"

"You get this look on your face, that and Elisa over there looks like she wants earplugs."

"Well if she'd just come over here and tell me to shut up I just might."

"Back to the point brat. What were you thinkin' about?"

"...The day before I died... well officially died, I think I went zombie in my sleep..."

"Went zombie? It's called Shifting."

"Ah."

Puppy and Kurt walked through the field with slow uneven steps, as Nilla ran around chasing butterflies and occasionally his own tail; and Elisa stalked ahead of them. It wasn't a special field; Kurt didn't think it had any significance to any of them –Puppy lived in a pound for a while before being adopted and left behind, Nilla hadn't really seen the world outside of Lima, Elisa was English and Kurt knew he'd never been there a day in his life- nor did he really know where it was, they were still somewhere in Ohio though. The place was simply a stretch of green with the very occasional tree, but their size would make up of the lack of them.

"Why'd you call Elisa here?"

"I dunno," Kurt shrugged, "She seems like the type to like fields like this and she said she can't cross back to earth unless I call her."

"You're kissing her arse?"

"I can hear you you know?" Elisa called, keeping her eyes trained on her feet.

"Well we can hear us too" Puppy spat, her ears twitching back.

Kurt sighed as Elisa stopped and turned to begin the verbal war. So much for his peaceful day. He quickened his pace to catch up with Nilla who had taken to jogging lightly instead of sprinting for insects.

"You look tired..." Kurt mumbled quietly, scratching the dog just behind the ear.

-:-

Kurt stared at the ceiling, counting the... well he wasn't sure what he was counting, but he'd counted ninety-two of 'it' so far.

"_Kurt? Buddy?"_

"_Hey, dad."_

"_How ya doin'?"_

"_As good as I can get, dad. Can you see anything on the ceiling?"_

"_You sure you're ok?"_

"_Morphine, dad... so much morphine!"_

"_Does the bite hurt then?"_

"_Wouldn't know. We've been over this, morphine dad!"_

"_Kurt, I promise that dog's gonna-"_

"_Dad, it's not his fault..."_

"_Kurt," _Burt cut himself off, realising his son had fallen asleep.

-:-

Kurt smiled sadly at the thought of his dad's threat. He knew what he was going to say. _That dog's gonna pay._ And Nilla did, with his life. The childish part of Kurt didn't understand it, though his logical part saw the reasons.

He was always divided on the subject: _Am I or am I not glad Nilla died? _It seemed a little cruel, being glad someone died. But he didn't know if would've lasted this long out of sheer loneliness, instead locking himself in the ecstasy thrill that was Paris if he ever found it.

But if Nilla had lived, where would he have gone? Testing labs? Be tamed and trained? Just left to rot in a cage in the pound? Kurt imagined the thought would've made him physically sick if such a thing could happen.

Nilla was with him and Kurt honestly believed he didn't want it any other way. But whenever they would see people walk their dogs or families with their dogs in the park, Kurt wished that for Nilla, now and in his future lives. To be loved like he wasn't in this one, even if he moved on to be something as simple as a butterfly he hoped people could at least appreciate the subtle beauty he would carry, or a dog would harmlessly chase him merely wishing to play.

But he'd always keep his fantasies for Nilla grounded, knowing all too well that things don't always end up the way you want them too.

-:-

"They haven't noticed we've stopped walking... or yelling" Puppy mused with a slight smirk, lowering herself in the grass.

"He's thinking..." Elisa mumbled, crossing her legs, "Butterflies..."

"He doesn't talk much. When he was a kid he wouldn't shut up... I never thought I'd miss it."

"You know, he wasn't wrong. I really do like fields..."

"If the kid to claim any natural skill it's being able to read people" Puppy mused, rolling on her back.

"No, he claims it's his fashion sense."

"Figures... Wait, if you can only show up when Kurt calls you... how the hell did you get to Paris?"

"Every ghost can cross over to Paris, they just can't leave Paris unless called or crossing back."

"...Huh."

-:-

Kurt hadn't noticed how far they'd walked. He couldn't see Puppy and Elisa, for some reason he couldn't help but be thankful for that. The alone time with Nilla he found priceless and he got the feeling Nilla sensed this when the dog gave him a sidewards glance and what seemed to be a smile.

He looked up from Nilla only to see Lima...

"Dammit, we did it again didn't we?"

Kurt had no idea how he did it. Walk from one place to another and have the time it should've taken disappear. They can never remember the trip for the most part, because it doesn't really happen. Just a blur in time. One minute they could be in the far end of Lima the next they could be in the next town over.

'_Yikes...'_

"Couldn't have said it better" Kurt muttered dropping to the ground. The odd thing though, when he dropped his gut seemed to stay lifted...

-:-

"Come on Finny D, you can do this. Quick and easy, like a band-aid" Finn muttered to himself. He stood in front of Kurt's closest having a stare off with it once again.

Quickly, he grabbed hold of the handles and easily ripped the doors open.

Then it hit him. Like a ton of figurative bricks, right in the face and up the nose.

Kurt.

Finn could smell it all around him, what _it _was he couldn't figure out. It was like Kurt had a different smell for each jacket, and they'd all blended into one familiar scent. But if one was to separate each scent they'd probably each have their own meaning and story.

He reached out, in an attempt to take a coat, but some thing made him freeze. His heart wasn't ready for this.

Quick and easy like a band-aid. Sure it had worked for the most part, but now he was left with the sting.

**AN: Hi guys, I'm only writing this to tell you that I'm going to totally be offline from the third of January till the twenty-second. I'm going to be in America, living it up in LA and San Francisco and doing an exchange program in Albuquerque! Fun! So any who, I won't be able to update anything. I might be able to get another chapter in before I leave, it depends... **


	13. Feels Like

**Strong inside but you don't know it.**

Artie was beyond ready to break some toes. Just roll a wheel over some toes and snap! Then play the sad sorry cripple act and move on, making sure to give slightly guilty glances every time he saw them over the next couple of weeks. He did when he was first in the hospital, after the car accident. He'd roll around paediatrics, over other kid's feet and blame it on poor experience. When really he was just jealous and being petty, but for some reason it made him feel a little better, until he realised he probably wouldn't ever be able to feel something like that in his feet anymore.

But right now he was explaining to Sam why he nearly ran over his toes.

"That's a little dark, Artie" Sam mumbled, looking down at Artie.

"Yeah, that's what my sister said. But I can't really kick balls, and it's a little awkward sometimes punching walls, so when I need to vent I roll over stuff."

"Like what?"

"Empty bottles, sticks, one particularly bad day when I was nine I rolled over our neighbour's cats tail" Artie stated as if it were matter of fact, ignoring Sam's shocked look.

"Dude, that's so mean!" Sam said, voice breaking and sounding slightly disgusted.

"I know..." Artie muttered.

"So... why are you so peeved?" Sam asked, locking his locker. He began to push Artie towards their history class.

"I had another one of _those _dreams."

"Ah."

"I know it sounds wrong and everything, but I just wish he'd piss off. You have no idea! The prick has the balls to let me walk and I feel it and everything! But then, I wake up and nothing!"

"I didn't know Kurt all that well, but that doesn't sound like him..." Sam said cautiously. He hadn't had any dreams like Puck or Artie, so he wasn't that firm of a believer of what happened in them.

"Yeah, but Kurt would exhaust any option he had to get what he wanted... and he wants Puck to stop counting" Artie grumbled bitterly.

"How do you know he's talking about Puck?"

"He tells me, 'Stop him counting' and tells Puck 'Stop and you'll shine', and we're the only two having dreams. It's him. We're going to his place tonight to figure it out."

"Figure out what, and why me?"

"Figure out what he's counting and you're the only other one in glee who knows about this stuff. Do you know how the others would react? You do remember the Mercedes/Brittany thing right?"

Sam grimaced at the memory and thought of being verbally and physically bitched slapped.

"You're right... Mercedes scares me a little..."

"Only a little?

-:-

"This place is so neat, dude..." Sam mumbled, running him fingers over random books on Puck's shelf.

"Are you kidding me? This place is a mess!"

"Yeah, but you _have _to keep your room clean so you can wheel around in it. Most teenage boys don't have that motivation, Artie."

"I'd hardly say it's a motivation, Sam and if you think this is neat I'd hate to see your room."

"Ch-yeah, you and my mum."

"Right!" Puck sighed, walking into the room holding three glasses somewhat awkwardly, "Coke for Sam and pure cordial for Artie." He gave Sam and Artie their respective drinks and began to sip his own. He and Sam grimaced as Artie sipped at his cordial seemingly unaffected by the sour taste. Artie looked up from his drink,

"What?"

"How do you drink that, man?"

"Yeah dude, what's your secret?"

Artie blinked at the pair before sitting his drink down, "I don't have a secret..." he mumbled watching the fluid in his glass settle.

"Then what, dude?" Puck asked, "Did someone dare you to drink it like that and you just liked it?"

"No... When I first got home after the accident, I never wanted to annoy mum with getting a drink and stuff like that; she was pretty upset after the accident, she kept... doting on me. I couldn't reach the tap, so when I wanted a drink of cordial I refused to ask mum to run the tap for me and we didn't keep any chilled water in the fridge; so I just drank it as is and have done so ever since..."

"... Cool" Sam chuckled, "What did she do when she found out you were drinking it straight though?"

"She started keeping water in the fridge, but I'd been drinking it like this for so long by then I didn't really like it with water," Artie picked up his glass and sipped, "Too bland."

"No offence man but that's messed up."

-:-

"Cordial... they're talking about cordial!" Kurt practically screamed, crouched around the corner of Puck's door hiding needlessly.

'_The fact that you feel something probably isn't a good sign.'_

Kurt huffed, feeling anger radiating from his body. He could almost see it as red powdered light coming from his feet with each stomp down hall.

Puck's lounge room wasn't anything one would rave about. It was boring, dirty and the rug was tacky. But that wasn't what Kurt was focussing on.

When windows smash without a rock or something going through it people blame it on the wind. This can be seen as true, depending on what your views on ghosts are. Some thought their spirits simply become air, stars, trees – basically nature in some form. Kurt used to wonder about the meaning of these peoples beliefs, and if he could in fact live out eternity as a tree.

But again, not his main focus. The wall that separated Puck's lounge from the garden had a window that was sitting at just the right height for Kurt to smash. The whole scene was perfect, window, Puck's sister watching mindless TV.

It'll teach them to talk about cordial.

He quickly phased through the wall, turning to face the wall. He raised his hands, spreading them out in front of him. He just stood there for a couple of seconds, puffing his chest out and gritting his teeth.

"Ah shit..."

'_You have no idea what your doing do you?'_

"No."

'_Hit it.'_

"What?"

'_Hit the window!'_

-:-

"_AHHHHHHHHH!"_

"Sarah!"

"You two go" Artie said forcefully.

Sam and Puck were out of the room faster than... well, Artie didn't care how fast they were so long as they were out of the room. Not that he had to rush, with Puck's sister's scream and the smashing sound of the window Artie assumed they'd be gone for a while and he wouldn't go down to help – he'd only get in the way.

Puck's desk wasn't really used for homework, he'd just dump whatever it had space for on it – not that Artie could say he didn't do so but he'd clean it. It'd taken one knock on a pile of books to reveal a mouldy, half eaten bread roll. Artie cringed at the sight just as a cold burst of air brushed past the back of his shoulders. He would've been freaked out if he wasn't used to it.

"Come on Kurt, show me the money..." Artie whispered to himself more than anything. Nothing in Puck's room jumped out to him as countable, maybe the amount of socks on the floor but nothing Artie thought he had to worry about. Maybe these dreams were all just stupid coincidence. A stupid but oh so very real coincidence.

Artie's gaze drifted over the walls, quickly saying no to next to everything. It seemed pointless, even the chill in the room had disappeared, causing Artie to lose faith in his mission.

'_It's staring at you, right in the eyes... Think...'_

It wasn't a voice he'd heard before and Artie sort of wished he didn't have to hear it again. His eyes fixated on the calendar on the wall, eyes squinting as he thought over the probability of Puck seriously counting how long Kurt had died. It scared him a little that anyone could have that kind of obsession – not that he can give expert advice on how to deal with death.

He reached up to bring the calendar down off its hook. A slight feat but doable. Each day already passed for the month had been crossed off in a purple pen. Artie sucked in a breath and held it, flipping back through the months. Each day, a huge purple cross through its box. Right back to the start of the year.

'_Idiot Artie! Kurt died last year!'_

Artie smacked the calendar against his forehead and groaned.


	14. Halo On Sunshine

**Remember those walls I built?**

He needed to say something. Anything. He could just come up with some crap about comparing dates.

"Damn it say something!"

His toes stung. Kurt figured this happened when someone made moves to hold on longer or prevent someone else from letting go. Artie's hesitation was doing both. Granted, the only reason he was still holding on was because Kurt made him, and it killed Kurt to see Artie react to the pain he was obviously in.

"Hey Puck do you have a calendar from last year anywhere in here? I wanna check something..." Artie questioned, flicking the edge of the current calendar.

"Umm... yeah, sure," Puck started digging through a drawer and then handed Artie the calendar, "Here you go."

"Thanks... So really there wasn't a rock or anything? It was honestly just the wind?"

"Yeah, looks like it. It was kind of cool," Sam mumbled.

"Guys, when did Kurt die?" Artie asked suddenly after a brief silence.

"September the first..." Puck mumbled absently, sending shots of pain through Kurt's feet. Artie didn't need to be told. He was there when Kurt died; he was just helping his theory.

Artie frowned at the change of pen colour of the crosses, "Puck... Have you been counting how long Kurt's been dead?"

"...no" Puck answered quietly, looking away.

"But maybe you didn't notice," mumbled Sam Looking over the calendars, "Maybe you didn't realise. Like your pen ran out so you started using a new one and you just know how many days you've been using that pen..."

Kurt watched as Puck thought it over with a critical squint. His face was a riddle. He was considering the idea of saying something, but Kurt's toes curled a little as he held back.

"Meaning you'd know how long Kurt's been dead," Artie mumbled, nodding his head thoughtfully.

He could tell this wasn't going to be instant. This was going to take a while. Not 'an hour' while, maybe 'a couple of weeks' while.

It was painful, Brittany had been so easy. He didn't have to do anything. He hadn't noticed when Mike finally shone, and it seemed Sam was never dull.

There are people in life that you know but are never emotionally invested in. These people you don't need to pass over, they are just bystanders or pawns in your dead game of chess. The never shine but they're never dull. They're just there at the ugly midway point that no one gave a damn about. Sam was in that mid way point.

Just because he was going out of his way now to help didn't mean he was beginning to latch on, it meant he was a decent human being.

"Aren't enough of those around..." Kurt mumbled to himself or Nilla.

"I just don't notice. I cross the day off and mumble one to myself... it's more of a habit than it is an obsession," Puck said quickly, shifting his gaze from through Kurt to Artie and Sam.

"Look..." Artie paused, mulling over his words carefully, "We have Mercedes' birthday tonight, how about we just say polite hellos, hang for an hour or two and then go to my place for a Halo weekend. Maybe it'll help being away from it for a couple of days."

Kurt could feel the forces known as 'Toe Hating Bitches' pinch his feet.

-:-

"Take lead Finn, you can do this."

Mercedes' party was a couple of hours off. Finn had the present wrapped and waiting at the front door. A hat... replacing one that was wrecked by a slushy.

He shook the thought and continued to stare down Kurt's wardrobe. Tonight wasn't going to be as fun as it could be. He wanted to at least not feel like crap the whole night knowing he had opened those damn doors. Because once open, there was no turning back. Ever.

As much as the thought shook him, it also inspired him.

Finn gripped the handles and closed his eyes. Memories of Kurt yelling about ruined clothes and how he was the only one who could wash them flooded his eyelids. He sucked in a breath and pulled back.

Wenching one eye open he let out his breath and absorbed everything. The smell. The sight. The sadness.

He'd thought he'd never get this...emotion, this…feeling ever again. The feeling of Kurt being there.

He cried. Real men cry. Real men drop to their knees and weep. Real men sing some song that had been embedded in the back of their heads, even if it was sung by a chick.

"Now and then I call your name... and you're never there."

Real men crumble when they realise how lonely they are without them, and then real men pick themselves up.

Shakily he pushed clothes from side to side, remembering when Kurt wore them, and tried not to mess them up. He caught a flash of red and green on the floor. Kneeling down, he pulled out the old and tacky Christmas box. He took off the lid and smiled.

Presents. All marked clearly as to whom they were for.

Tonight might not be so bad after all.

-:-

Her parents set it up. She just wanted a nice dinner with family, not a party and the house to themselves.

Mercedes stood in front of the mirror practising her smile. She needed too. Or else everyone would know she was depressed and what kind of hostess is depressed?

It would just prove everyone right.

Everyone showed up minutes apart. Everyone was off. They knew it, Mercedes knew it, hell even the dog next door knew it.

She'd planned to just let everyone have control around her. If they wanted music, they could play music. Free range of the kitchen. Whatever. She just wanted the night to be over.

They grouped around her as she sat on the couch. No chance of escape. She was given present after present and she beamed.

"Here" Finn mumbled, with a goofy grin and giddy like a child.

Her hat. She smiled a little more honestly. She really did love it, but dick headed jocks will be dick headed jocks.

"Is that all?" she whined, feigning disappointment.

"Not quite!" Finn said, giddier than before. He pulled a small box from behind him and handed it up to her.

"What's this?" she asked, marvelling slightly at the ribbon glued to the lid.

"It's from Kurt," Finn mumbled sheepishly, "I found it in his wardrobe."

No one said a word. Mercedes just kept her mouth in a line. Her eyes swelled with tears as she pulled off the lid. The most dazzling, beautiful, stunning necklace and earrings gleamed up at her. A note flittered out of the lid and onto the floor. She picked it up and read it out aloud,

"A beautiful gift for a beautiful person."

It took every ounce of strength within her not to break down. All she could do was stand, drag Finn to his feet and hug him like no tomorrow.

"Thank you."

She felt something lift off her chest as a chill ran up her arm. It disappeared quickly as if it were offended.

"I'm sure he knows..." Finn mumbled, pulling away to look her in the eye.

-:-

You'd be an idiot to deny the she didn't look amazing.

Or dead, if the shoe fits.

She didn't even glow. Not slightly. The necklace and earrings did and her eyes occasionally, but never her.

Kurt could feel it creeping into his chest.

He was lonely... for once.

**A/N: Thank you so, so much to My-Alphabet-Soup for the beta!  
**


	15. Sway

**When we dance with me you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me. **

He felt, different. Younger. Maybe he'd slept too long. His head felt airy, light. Everything looked different, people looked different.

"_Mister? Do you know where my mummy went?"_

Kurt stared the little girl next to his bed down. She looked sick. She had a thin trail of blood from her inner ear all along her jaw bone and down her neck, as well as several cuts across her pale body.

"_Honey, you're bleeding..."_

"_It always happens on my birthday... Do you know where my mummy is?"_

"_No, no I don't," _Kurt stated, brow furrowing as he bore holes in the girls face with his eyes.

"_Kurt? What are you looking at?"_ Kurt's head snapped up to face Carole, who was looking at him with concern. He slowly turned his head back to the girl, then again to Carole.

"_Nothing..." _he muttered as he reached to scratch at the gauze around his left shoulder and lower neck.

"_No, no honey don't touch that" _Carole cooed lightly, stepping over next to his bed drawing his hand away, going right through the little girl. Kurt held in a gasp, choosing to let his eyes widen.

"_Does she know where my mummy went?" _the girl asked, unfazed.

"_It doesn't sting, anymore..." _Kurt stated opting to ignore the girl, looking up at Carole as he fingered her hand, _"Not even a little."_

Carole's eye twitched left and right across Kurt's face, nodding a little before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"_I'll go see the doctor in a minute honey, your dad will be here soon..."_

Kurt gave a mindless look as he kept playing with her hand, randomly wiggling her fingers, squeezing them lightly and spinning her rings around and around. His eyes would flicker from her stomach to different parts of her body.

"_You're glowing..." _he muttered, tracing circles in her palms.

"_Thank you?" _she said cautiously, following Kurt's eyes.

"_I'm not sure it's a good thing though," _Kurt mumbled, scratching at Carole's nail polish.

"_What's not a good thing?" _Burt asked, as he stepped into the room.

"_Carole's glowing," _Kurt whispered, twirling a lock of Carole's fringe around his finger, taking no notice to the couple's worried glances as his eyes followed the little girl out of the room into nothing.

-:-

Quinn murmured in her sleep before sitting up stiff, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She took in the sight of Mercedes' bedroom. She and Tina had crashed in there after leaving the mess that was now the Jones's lounge room.

She wasn't in the hospital, holding Artie as he cried. It wasn't even that stressful in retrospect, for her. She hadn't cried until the funeral, the day of proof that Kurt was dead.

It was the one day she didn't pray. Even when the priest had bowed his head and asked everyone to join him in prayer, she just stared forward unblinkingly, seething, not bothering to bow her head. She couldn't even remember what the prayer was.

It was the one day she truly believed god was full of shit, and she told it to him the day before the party day, it having finally gotten too her. Just not in as many words.

"_Where do you get off?" _

She'd screamed it at the clouds. No one else in the graveyard stared at her like she was crazy, but they didn't go anywhere near her either; all but one sweet lady, dressed in clothes to beautiful to be local.

"_Angels, my dear, is what god wants."_

"_Then why doesn't he make one instead of taking ours?"_

"_Because Quinn, while god can make a body, I believe, he can't create a person. He can mould one, but it's simply quicker to take one. It takes years to mould someone like Kurt, and sometimes cruelly done so, but as they say after the storm shines a rainbow. No pun intended."_

"_How do you know my name?" _But the woman was gone, completely. Quinn looked back down to the tombstone and prayed, not to god but directly to Kurt. _"I just wanted you to know... I don't blame the dog... I saw you Kurt, you didn't always react to kindness in the way it was intended either."_

"Quinn? Can I come in?"

"Yes Finn," she whispered glancing at Tina. Finn sat on the floor next to the bed. "That was nice of you, to give the jewellery to Mercedes. I think she's a little scared to wear them..."

"Yeah," Finn chuckled, "I feel bad though. Everyone's giving me the credit."

"You should always love the messenger, Finn. We could be shooting you."

"Mean."

They stayed silent, gauging the amount of time it'd take before it got awkward. It didn't.

"Why'd you come in?" Quinn asked, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Sam snores like a rooting warthog. It's disturbing."

"...Finn," she started with a wavering breath, "Do you ever question god?"

"What do you mean? Whether he exists or motives?"

"Just in general."

"Isn't that the whole point? To question your faith?"

"No... I... Sometimes I think that god's plan is like a show, and occasionally there are guest stars that step in for one episode and then disappear only coming back in small mentions or reprises and they can potentially rock their roles or... fuck the show. I just, sometimes I think that if god were to hold auditions that some of them lie to him, saying they're nice and then... they jump the shark in god's script... I don't even know where I'm going with this."

"I get it," Tina mumbled, propping herself on her elbows still half asleep, "God can plan all he wants but he doesn't have full control."

"Sometimes I don't think god has any control," Finn mumbled, "I just think he watches and learns."

"...Do you guys ever think of the dog?" Tina asked, as she sat up, "Like, what did he lose?"

"It's life?"

"He isn't an 'it' Finn. I never blamed him, not for a second."

"I did," Quinn sighed, "But then I think 'Did it know what love was?' That's all Kurt did, show it some love."

"You think love can be misinterpreted?" Tina asked tilting her head.

"Yes, if you don't know what it is. That dog was a stray, no tags, no microchip, people – us, we – shunned it... him, people shunned him simply because his only flaw was the fact that he could be shunned."

"I just want someone to blame" Finn choked, bowing his head.

-:-

Animals do not need anyone to let go for them to pass over, at least not directly. An animal with direct human contact have masters when they die and they pass over when their masters do. Some animals never pass over, as they never have a master and a human can only ever have one animal to serve them. The animals that serve a baby, for example, must make sure the child doesn't cause havoc with its innocence and lack of knowledge. They can also serve their masters when they're not even dead yet; such an example would be a cat looking out for her master's son because the son's angel is a bitch.

"Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Elisa?"

'_Well shit.'_

Puppy looked up at the angel in question, she'd obviously just returned from France.

"No. I thought it."

Elisa glared at her before sending a death eye at Kurt.

"Did you tell anyone to do something? Like talk to one of your friends?"

"No" Kurt said, confused, thinking about all the zombies he'd talked too. "Not that I can think of. Why?"

"Someone talked to one of your friends last week. That's fine, but then they pulled a disappearing act, leaving a toe behind for the groundskeeper of your school to find. They've obviously crossed the line and tried to get out of there as fast as they could, moving to McKinley's locker room oddly enough."

"Wow. Who'd they talk to?"

"I don't know! Who do you think I am?"

Elisa stomped off, fading into the sunlight just as Rachel Berry stepped into the room glaring at all around her.

"Did any of you talk to anyone you didn't know?"

'_Oh for fucks sake...'_


	16. Chances

**Don't want to be alone tonight on this planet they call earth.**

McKinley was swarming with cops, mainly around the boy's locker room.

"Yeah, I saw a lady walk out of there yesterday but I just thought she was one of the football players' girlfriends or something."

"Can you describe her?"

"No. Sorry, I honestly can't remember a thing about her other than she was dressed beautifully."

"This is ridiculous." Santana muttered angrily, watching from down the hall.

"I know. It worries me though, can my toes actually fall off or is that just zombies?"

'_Don't test any theory with toes. It's awful to watch.'_

"Ooooo, looks like the ghost of the Fairy King's out to get us!"

"And he's lopping off random body parts!"

Karofsky and Azimio high-fived triumphantly as they stepped away from Santana; Kurt raised an eyebrow at the two in indifference, feeling the anger radiate from Santana.

"You fuck-wits!" she screeched, calling the attention of all those in the hall – cops included. "It's 'Fairy Queen', fair- how dumb are you! If you're going to insult someone, have the decency to do it properly! And next time you need to vent your frustrations, if your little hiding spot to blow each other between classes is being used, go find Jew-fro! Don't you dare come after my _dead _friend, or I'll hunt you down, beat the crap out of you and leave the leftovers – if there are any – for Puckerman!"

She turned a walked away, soaking in the stunned silence and wearing a look that confused all but two.

Relief.

_I never seem to get the guy. Santana's an idiot for not taking the love Brit's so willing to give._

The line from Kurt's journal rang in her head as she turned the corner.

"Santana Lopez, please report to the Principal's office immediately."

Santana tilted her head high and walked down the hall towards Figgins's office, wearing a determined and proud look.

"I swear Principal Figgins, it was a slip of the tongue and it won't happen again," she stated proudly as she stepped into Figgins's office with a bounce in her that looked really out of place.

"Bah, if you're talking about the incident in front of the locker rooms, do not worry! Those two had it coming, just refrain from using the language you did. I wanted to talk to you about something else Ms Lopez, please sit."

Kurt looked on, scratching Nilla's ear, confused by the lack of any pain in his toes. He let his mind wander to other things.

"Can ghosts even have sex?"

'_Wow. That was a little slow.'_

"What?"

"I wanted to know if you feel Mr Schuester is doing enough to support you and the other Glee kids after the death of your friend."

"Isn't this a little late to be asking?"

"I thought he would've done something a while ago, but I'm getting reports of Ms. Jones singing love anthems in the girl's bathroom... still! And Ms. Berry has been given several detentions for singing ABBA songs in the middle of her classes."

"I don't think Mr Schu has been dealing as well as he could... his ringtone is 'Mr Cellophane' and he doesn't really talk about loss, just more about the love. Glee's gotten depressing."

"Thank you Ms Lopez, that is all."

Figgins nodded and she left.

-:-

Opening the closest was more of a step back than it was a step forward for Finn. Now whenever he stepped down the stairs of the basement he'd be slowly greeted but the smell of Kurt. And because of that he had made mental notes:

Mercedes was forbidden from entering the basement.

The closet door must be locked before Rachel enters the basement – Something about a jacket she felt she was entitled to.

No food was ever near the closet.

So on and so on. The notes were mainly a way to keep the smell lingering for a long as possible.

"Finn! You bastard!"

It was torture, the worst part being he couldn't leave the basement. Parts of his clothes would fade to invisible dust as Finn relished in the smell around him.

"Finn, come help me with dinner will you?"

"Yeah mum!"

The pain dulled, but Finn was missing the smell. At least Kurt could leave.

No, he still couldn't move from one place to another in an instant, but Nilla could. An animal thing it was; and zombies.

"Have they found out who the toe belongs too?"

Yikes. One painful place to another; Rachel and Tina.

"No, they're still doing tests, but I think they have leads; it's either that or I heard the TV wrong."

"Nilla, why'd you bring me here?"

'_I don't know. Tina likes me.'_

Kurt pondered on that statement. It was – as far as he could remember – the first time Nilla actually referred to one of his friends by their first name.

"She never resented you," Kurt mumbled in realisation. But nothing happened; Tina didn't glow, not even a little.

"When did you say Santana was getting here?"

"I don't know, soon though."

Just hearing Rachel speak was painful. She wasn't a depressed holder like Mercedes, who wanted to hold on but hated to do so because it was just further proof the Kurt was in fact dead as a dodo. No, Rachel was cheerful in not letting go. She was happy to have that bit of Kurt to carry around with her, and thanks to her psychic abilities, that bit was ABBA.

Kurt made it a habit to say next to nothing around Rachel, because if she could pick up on something he did while he was in France, then he could only imagine if he said something nearly in her ear.

"Berry, please for the love of all that is good, cut the ABBA crap!" Santana spat as she stomped into the room. "Why do you so suddenly like this stuff anyway?"

"I don't know. I guess I just never really appreciated the sheer brilliance of their music, and the songs all compliment my voice perfectly."

"I'm sure. Look I need help with..." Santana bit her lip, trying to arrange the words in her head. "I don't like labels, to start with."

Rachel tilted her head and patted a stop on her bed for Santana to sit. "Go on."

"I... I want to ask Brittany out and-" Tina and Rachel squealed.

"This is so awesome!"

"If you don't mind me saying, it's about time!"

Kurt saw it, she was flustered. He saw, but felt nothing; if anything the situation bored him.

"Can we not make a big deal out of this?"

"Why?"

The word slid off Tina's lips like it was nothing.

"I just... keep it here, in these walls... please."

'_Yikes.'_

-:-

So it wasn't spectacular. Just a lousy offer for a date with a lousy answer in front of the Glee Club, and only a tiny glow.

'_Feeling nothing must be good, right?'_

"Yeah... maybe."

But Glee Club went on, almost as if Santana hadn't asked Brittany to the movies with a hopeful glint in her eyes, her fingers pinching her skirt to stop the shaking or as if Brittany's face never light up when she squealed a 'yes'. Kurt just closed his eyes and leant against the door frame, a million things running through his head.

'_You've done it again.'_

Kurt opened his eyes. The choir room was locked and the lights were off. He had done the time skip thing again; it felt like he'd closed his eyes for two seconds.

"What a nice night it is." Kurt tilted his head to face an old man.

"Nice to see you again, I see you do actually leave the hospital."

"Ah ha ha, yes, but only for Thursday nights. We have a choir."

"A choir of the dead?"

"A choir of the dead former Glee Club members. Care to join? You can watch tonight if you want to. You shouldn't have much trouble getting in, we're all big fans."

Something in Kurt's chest swelled and he nodded, a smile breaking on his face. A woman phased through the door and squealed,

"Oh that's what we like to see!"

All his loneliness seemed to disappear... seemed.

**AN: I feel like a bitch, but thank you to My-Alphabet-Soup for betaing the past few chapters! I hadn't let everyone know they were doing it so... tadaaaaa! And can I get review guys? I kind of feel like no one's reading this. :)****  
**


	17. Need You

**It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone.**

It was more emotion than he had felt since he died. The smile he wore almost split his face in half.

"The name is Patches."

"You're not crazy as a ghost?"

"Oh I will be on Christmas day."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, you don't know..."

Kurt tilted his head and stared at the man, who had died two years ago on Christmas day.

"I can't seem to remember your actual name..."

"I like Patches better anyway, draws in the ladies."

Kurt just tilted his head further and laughed. The 'Glee Club for the Dead' was a little fearful for him. He didn't know why, but his chest was constricted within itself and his heart was beating in his ears.

"You get that beating in your ears every time you're about to perform," Cassandra said, squeezing his shoulder. She had been in the school's choir twenty years beforehand, and was hit by a car two days before she was to sing in front of the school.

"Did I?"

"Yes. Don't worry, we all forget little things like that when we die."

"Hey, kiddo, do you have any idea whose toe it was that they found in the locker room?"

"No. Elisa did tell me that they talked to one of my friends and that's why they lost it."

The two who had stayed behind to talk to Kurt stayed silent, a grave sort of look crossing their faces.

"Why were you talking to Elisa?"

"She's my guide."

"Oh, you poor baby," Cassandra cooed, wrapping her arms around Kurt's neck.

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"She has this thing..." Patches started, looking up at the ceiling.

"She isn't used to being dead. She's known all over the world for her... attitude."

Kurt knew Elisa had personality issues, she was a bitch. But, as he learned, she never had a chance for the idea of being dead to truly sink in and had her second death too soon. Thus, she became bitter, hateful and lost feeling for her family too soon to be deemed healthy. She became a dark angel. The name is original yes, but dark angels use their greater powers to tie new ghosts down in a bid to 'recruit' more d-angels. Their selfish view of 'if I have to suffer, you do too' drives them to break hearts, tear souls and twist the mind without them actually realising that their eyes burned with hate and sorrow.

"Apparently Elisa is the queen dark angel, so to speak. Not so much that she leads them - just that she's the best... in a manner of speaking."

"Oh..." Kurt muttered, slipping out of Cassandra's grip. "Does everyone become... like her?"

"No one knows, none of them are angels yet or they never became angels."

'_Sucks to be you.'_

-:-

Kurt wanted to kick himself in the gut for having to die to discover he monumentally sucked at chess. Two and a half people, two and a half people had let go. Brittany, Mike and (sort of) Santana.

Santana, right...

"Pawn Rachel, to D-3..."

"Santana, could I talk to you?"

Ok, so maybe he wasn't so bad... for the most part at least.

"If you really have to."

"You should pass it on."

"What?"

"Look, I don't know what 'it' is, but I know you have it and you should pass it on to someone else – someone who needs it."

"Pawn Rachel to D-4, and Bishop Santana to E-5..."

'_You know you sound like a dick, right?'_

Rachel walked off, leaving Santana to stare at her locker.

"I know."

-:-

Courage the cowardly dog - an oxymoron, and it doesn't have any real relevance. Courage – yes, but the cowardly dog – nope, not a damn, but let us digress.

To let go, is to man up and admit. Taking the courage and will power that you keep in the back of your sock drawer for emergencies and saying to someone, or yourself, in one way or another that whoever is dead. Whether it be cutting them out of a dance, or dying your hair in front of their grave; or ramming the point down your teacher's throat.

"Santana, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to give you something."

She sat in front of his desk and looked up at him, honestly nervous.

"Is everything ok?"

"Um... Yes, yeah. Figgins called me to his office-"

"About yelling at Azimio and Karofsky?"

"No. Well yes, but he asked about you too."

Will's mouth hung open a little, jutting up and down slightly as he tried to say something. "Why would he ask about me?"

"Will, imma gonna speak to you mono a mono here ok? You aren't dealing, no one is. Brittany and Mike did because they don't really listen to half the crap that falls out of your mouth. They just wait for the music and then dance."

"Umm-"

"I'm still talking. Every other loser in this club depends on your opinion for the most part. Quinn never used to but that baby shot her self-esteem in the head and Puck listens to you because Finn does. Don't get me started on Tall and Stumpy, Mercedes is gone, Schuester, she is a shell of who she used to be. Tina and Artie, they don't say shit, I have no idea what's going on with them, and Sam and Lauren haven't been around long enough. You're not helping anyone and I'm so not taking this shit lying down anymore!"

Santana stared Will down and he squirmed in his seat trying to think of a comeback or _something _to say. He hoped he would never have a war of words with Santana, because he knew no matter what she would be Germany and he would take it like France.

"Man up," she spat, pulling a book out of her bag and tossing it on the desk. "Read it, use it and then pass it on to the next sucker who needs it. Stop fucking around and actually do what you take so much credit for doing."

She stood up and glared at Will, daring him to say something.

"Don't use that tone with me, Santana" he said feebly, weakly pulling the book closer to him with his fingers.

"Later Mr Nike."

And the room practically exploded with light.

-:-

Yeah, five beers, a clipping covered book and tacky movies hadn't done shit.

If you asked at that moment, Will couldn't tell you what was in the book. But he could tell you who's it was.

"Fuck her."

Damn Germany and her ways.

Yes, six beers – to be seven – had made him only refer to Santana as Germany and himself France.

And Kurt thinks it should hurt, not make him feel anxious. Though he reasoned it didn't hurt because Will could've easily burnt the journal on the stove top, and he's anxious because Will is making the move...

Dammit.

**AN: Again thank you to My-Alphabet-Soup for the beta.**

**I'm a sucky updater, i know. Forgive me.**

**Review?**


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